


i once had a boy, or should i say, he once had me || oneshot collection

by aaronnn



Category: South Park
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Video Game World, Angst, Assassins & Hitmen, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Gen, Horror, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot Collection, Other, Out of Character, Romance, Sad, Slice of Life, Smut, Soulmates, Video & Computer Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2020-09-19 03:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 100,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20324245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aaronnn/pseuds/aaronnn
Summary: i want to start this as a collection of style oneshots and drabbles because i had a ton of ideas that were going nowhere (but it was wasteful to just forget them!) and it just seems like a good idea!most are songfics or writing prompts that gave me inspiration, or just random fever dreams i had, i take this as a creative outlet and a place to practice writing and my imagination (try to challenge me!)basically i’ll get to writing whenever i have time, this is super exciting tho, it’d be super cool if people hmu with their own directives and what not (if you’re not sure if i’ll butcher it [i probably will] you might want to check out my other recent stuff just to see how i write)anyway thanks for making it this far, i hope the stories will bring excitement and entertainment!





	1. Chapter register

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to add that not all stories are rated M but some are and the chapters will be marked too if that's what you're looking for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adding a chapter register to keep things clean and so people can pick and chose what’s interesting

**Chapter 2**

Four Seasons | Romance;Angst | -

_Our love changed like the seasons_.

**Chapter 3**

I Have Your Name On My Skin | Fluff;Friendship | -

_Have you found your soulmate yet?_

**Chapter 4**

Scars | Romance;Angst | -

_Every lie leaves a scar_.

**Chapter 5**

You Feel Like Home | Fluff;Romance | -

_Sometimes, people make the home_.

**Chapter 6**

The Sun and The Moon | Romance;Fluff;Supernatural | -

_Maybe The Sun loves The Moon. And The Moon loves The Sun._

**Chapter 7**

Between The Crosshairs PT 1 [M] | Action;Romance | Violence 

_Soulmates can't hurt each other. So what happens when an assassin's bullet can't pierce someone's skin?_

**Chapter 8**

Between The Crosshairs PT 2 [M] | Action;Romance | Violence 

**Chapter 9**

A Few Loose Screws | Drabble;Humor;Friendship | -

_They just build a shelve._   
_Kinda dumb, kinda fun._

**Chapter 10**

Wish Upon a Star | Romance;Fluff | -

_Sometimes, your wishes do come true_.

**Chapter 11**

Cappuccino PT 1 [M] | Romance;Angst | Indicated smut

_Based on a song of the same name by YinYoung. _

**Chapter 12**

Cappuccino PT 2 [M] | Romance;Angst | Indicated smut

**Chapter 13**

If They're Gunning For You, You're Winning PT 1 [M] | Action;Adventure | Violence;Gore

_How Kyle and Stan managed to find a crowbar, beat The Incinerator, save a city, find a crate of shitty beer and outsmart military in just a few easy steps._

**Chapter 14**

If They're Gunning For You, You're Winning PT 2 [M]

**Chapter 15**

If They're Gunning For You, You're Winning PT 3 [M]

**Chapter 16**

Poco Lento E Grazioso | Romance;Fluff;Drama;Royal AU | Character death

_They both knew from the moment they caught a glimpse of each other at a ball so long ago, they knew._

**Chapter 17**

Do You Remember the Days PT 1 | Romance;Fluff;Angst | -

_Sometimes flings last, sometimes they fall apart, and sometimes they meet after years because they still think of each other during rainy days. _

**Chapter 18**

Do You Remember the Days PT 2 [M] | Romance;Fluff;Angst | Sexual content


	2. Four Seasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our love changed like the seasons

First I just want to say that this came to me in literature class when we talked about poets from my country during the war era and the poem was so beautiful in my opinion, I couldn’t resist, unfortunately, it is not translated

**Four seasons**

**Winter**

_It was the first time I saw you. I saw your face, I saw your eyes, your nose. I saw you curse as you dropped your things into the fresh snow. I couldn't believe anything could make me feel so warm in such cold weather, yet there you were._

It has snowed for a few days now. Not a lot, but bit by bit, snow softly fell on everything and anything. The sidewalks were hidden under the white carpet, masking the layers of ice spread all over. Kyle thought it would be a good idea to go or a walk. He needed some new inspiration, desperate for new ideas. It's been a long time since he had a block like this, he couldn't put a single line on the paper. Not even a little squiggle, because he wouldn't know where to go with it. His mind was drained from past projects but he needed to spit out ideas like he was on a treadmill. He got more and more worried with each day he spent on the balcony, coffee in one hand, pen in the other, staring at the blank paper and the blank paper staring back at him. Usually, he was able to pour his heart out when he was sitting out there, no matter the weather or season. He'd look around, he'd look into his soul, into his heart and there it was.

A quick walk in the park, that should fix it. Kyle went out looking for inspiration, hoping the world covered in snow would bring some fresh ideas into his head. He stopped by the lake, he walked by the river, he saw the birds and observed the trees. He watched the ice-skaters and visitors, families and couples. He tried and tried but his mind stayed blank. More so, he focused on his freezing hands and cheeks. The wind hit him sharply and it started to snow again. He took it as a sign and turned around to go home.

The world seemed like a whole different place when it snowed. Everything was so quiet and calm, even with traffic not so far away, you didn't pay attention to it when you had snowflakes on our eyelashes and on your hands and on your coat. It was like the rest of the world didn't exist. Kyle felt the creative part of his brain and heart start-up once again, painting a new image. Excitedly, he hurried home, passing by the same lake and people, seeing them differently now.

His eyes stayed on the snowy pavement, stopping when he saw a brown scarf laying on the ground. He didn't give it much attention, until he heard a few swears, coming from nearby. His eyes frantically looked around to see the source of these obscenities, he grabbed the scarf and noticed a young man picking up papers and notebooks from the snow. Without thinking twice, he approached him, the guy didn't even notice him. “Shit, might as well rewrite all of this, oh God, it's so wet now,” he mumbled to himself, searching for remaining notes that were scattered around. He knew he was missing some of them.

Kyle almost forgot about the scarf he was holding, he was so charmed. He had no idea by what though. Something just magnetically brought him to this person, desperately digging through the snow. He snapped back when he felt drops run down his fingers, the warmth of his hand melting the snow on the scarf. “Excuse me, I-I think you might have dropped this,” he approached him, cursing himself for saying it so quietly, he probably didn't even hear him. Why couldn't he even get it out of himself properly?

The man finally stood up straight, turning around to see who was talking to him. It was the first time Kyle saw his face and he understood why he couldn't tear his eyes away from the moment he saw him. There was something about him he couldn't put his finger on. The man looked at him and Kyle was suddenly staring into the deepest eyes he saw. He was so charmed by his eyes alone, but his skilled eyes quickly picked up on the little details on his face, his worried look, his curved lips, red cheeks, his messy hair sticking every which way. He was in a rush this morning. His nose, it was perfect for his face. Everything lightly covered in the fresh snow. A little voice in him told him that he found what he was so desperately looking for.

“Can I help you?” the guy asked, his expression changing in a whim. From a worried look into a welcoming smile, Kyle felt like he was melting. It seemed so stupid to be this blown away by basically nothing but he never wanted the feeling to stop. His hands weren’t cold anymore, no, they weren’t. It was the most genuine smile he saw in a while and he wished the man would never stop smiling. He saw the little spark in his eye when he looked at Kyle, he wasn’t sure but wanted to believe there was something.

“I think... you dropped this,” he handed him the scarf but didn’t look away for a second, he couldn’t, he didn’t want to. There was something so human and pure about his smile, his eyes, Kyle wasn’t sure if he was seeing clearly. The man took the scarf, their fingers touching briefly as he did. His heart skipped a beat as the man smiled so gently, seeing the scarf is really his.

“Oh, it’s so wet now. God, I can’t even put it around my neck, I’d get so sick. But I will get sick without it too. I can’t miss any more classes though, I’m already in so much trouble. Jesus, thank you! Thank you for the scarf though,” he trailed off, thanking Kyle in the process. He seemed so stressed and out of place, his mind was skipping from school to the man who found his scarf to missing notes to the cold wind. In the process, he didn’t even notice it started snowing again. “I... I am Stan by the way. Feel like this is kinda in place since you’ve had to hear about my whole attendance,” he chuckled and cautiously put out his hand, giving Kyle that kind smile once again. He shook it, introducing himself too, noticing how cold Stan’s hand was. He wondered how such a warm person could have such cold hands.

“What time is it? Oh, oh it’s already so late, I might as well skip class. This is such a terrible morning I-... Oh all of my notes are wet and... Hey do- do you want to maybe go get coffee?” Kyle had trouble keeping up with the thread of thoughts, he was caught off guard by the question at the end. “I mean this is my favorite scarf after all,” Stan twisted the scarf in his hands, looking down at it tenderly. He seemed so gentle and delicate, standing in the middle of the park with snow falling on him and his school papers, looking so all over the place and radiating such nice friendly warmth. This is it, Kyle thought. He found his muse.

**Spring**

_It was the beginning. Although it was new and we were both so careful, you, you, you, that's all that was on my mind. I think it was the same for you. We couldn't think straight. It was gentle and loving. Tender confessions. With every kiss I could have sworn I saw a new flower bloom._

Stan held Kyle’s hand tightly as he dragged him through the field, stepping over fallen branches. “Slow down!” Kyle laughed, pulling the other boy back, catching him into his arms. Stan laughed softly, making Kyle’s heart skip a beat, it was the sweetest laugh he had heard.

Stan couldn’t get enough of the feeling he had when Kyle wrapped his arms around him. He always ran his hands through his hair or stroked his back. It made him feel like the only person is the world. He snapped back into reality, putting a pause to the sweet moment. “We’re still not there.” Kyle didn’t know where he was taking him. But the journey was worth it, he didn’t even care. Seeing him smile and pull him through the fields and between the trees, their fingers intervened, Stan rubbing Kyle’s hand with his thumb gently. He laughed quietly, feeling silly that something so innocent made him feel so weak. He wouldn’t change it for the world.

“We’re here!” Stan excitedly ran forward to get a better look at the lake. He stopped a few steps off the shore, barely making himself stop before falling into the water. He turned around to see Kyle approaching slowly, taking his sweet time. Stan sat into the fresh grass, looking at the water coming uphill, a little closer to him but never quite reaching him. The air was fresher than in the city, filled with a sweet floral scent. The flowers bloomed around, creating a sea of colors all around them.

Stan only realized Kyle finally came by when he snuck his hand around his waist, pulling the sitting boy closer to him. He felt a swarm of butterflies going wild in his stomach. He laid his head on Kyle's shoulder, getting overwhelmed by his cinnamon scent. It was almost too good. They stayed like that for a few minutes, mesmerized by the tiny waves on the calm lake, birds singing them a song in the background. The world was theirs.

Kyle was getting lost in the scenery, up until he felt a little unexpected kiss on his shoulder, feeling Stan’s breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine. “Aren't you hot in this?” Stan asked, tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“A little.”

“I think you'd be hotter without it,” Stan chuckled, giving him a cheeky look. Kyle looked at him just to see goosebumps on his arms.

“Are you trying to flirt or are you just cold?”

“A little bit of both.” Dramatically rolling his eyes, Kyle pulled the hoodie off himself, handing it to Stan who gladly took it. He searched for something in the grass, seeing as it fell from the pocket. “A pencil?” he asked curiously, handing it back to Kyle.

He took it, twisting the dull pencil in his hand. “In case I get inspired at the wrong time.” Stan pleaded him to draw something, anything. With curious eyes, he watched Kyle fish something out of his pocket, a folded paper. He was surprised that he came prepared. ‘Draw that duck,’ he pointed at a little bird in the middle of the lake, swimming in circles. “Okay but like... close your eyes. I can't just do it like this,” he laughed, straightening the paper on his thigh. Stan only heard the sound of the pencil moving against the paper quickly, leaving marks and doing moves he couldn't do even in his dreams. A duck, he wanted him to draw a duck. So stupid, he laughed, out of all the things.

“Are you done?”

“Almost,” Kyle barely mumbled, lost in the art process. He almost forgot to answer, his eyes planted on the subject. he didn't want to take long with the sketch, shading in the last details. “Here.”

Stan opened his eyes just to see the paper folded in front of his face once again. “So dramatic for a duck.” He took the paper, opening it slowly because he felt Kyle looking at him with big eyes. His eyes ran up and down the drawing, feeling the blood rush into his cheeks. “You're so dumb, that's not a duck.”

“That's the thanks I get?”

“Oh come on, you know it's,” Stan stopped, holding the sketch up against the setting sun. He studied every line, every shade, how he drew his eyes, his lips, his nose, every little detail was there, details he didn't even notice about himself. “It's incredible.” Kyle's hands snuck around his shoulders, pulling him back into his chest. Both of them laid on the fresh grass, looking up at the passing clouds and orange-painted sky. Stan held the paper close to his chest, Kyle's fingers stroking his hair. It felt so right, lying in his arms. He pushed himself up on his elbows, looking over the boy next to him. His eyes closed, he looked so peaceful, so... so happy, a tender smile resting on his lips. Before he could stop himself, he brought his hand up to his face, his fingers running over his jaw and lips, stopping there for a while before sliding down on his neck.

“What?” Kyle softly asked, opening his eyes to see Stan over him, reading his face, every curve, every freckle. His eyes looked so lost in his own. The corners of his mouth rose up, his hand reaching out to grab Stan's face. Stan couldn't form a single comprehensible thought. His mind was fully occupied with Kyle. He wanted to kiss him, making those lips his. A little voice was stopping him but a big wave telling him to go for it. Should he, should he not, he wondered. He tried to count to three but before he could even reach two he found himself bringing himself down to Kyle, feeling his lips on his own.

**Summer**

_It was the peak. We were ready to do anything for our love. You once drove us to your parents' cabin somewhere in the woods. You had me and I had you. I could feel the heat and passion from every kiss and every touch, we held nothing back._

Stan helped himself up on the fence, his back facing the forest. Kyle came back from the cabin, handing him a thick blanket, “I'm not cold.”

“But you will be in like five minutes,” he laughed, sitting on the couch placed on the patio. It was a warm summer night, the kind when you don't want to go back inside, no matter how late it is. The sun was already long gone, being replaced by a shining moon and many, many stars. Stan managed to turn on a few dim lights just so they could see each other.

“Did you find anything in there though?”

“Just like... some wine.”

“Oh don't even mention that!” Stan laughed, rubbing his forehead at the memories that came with Kyle mentioning that stupid drink.

“What happened?”

“I... Last time I drank wine... You know, there's tipsy, there's drunk, wasted and then there's whatever the fuck I was that night,” he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

Kyle just laughed, imagining it. He grabbed a bowl of strawberries from a table inside on his way in, placing them in his lap. He popped one in his mouth, giving Stan a cheeky look. He knew they were his favorite, no one could touch them. But he did and the boy couldn't do a thing about it. “I guess you'll have to deal with me sober then.”

“Oh, that's going to be a long night then,” he rolled his eyes, trying to provocate Kyle. He stood up, calm as ever and made his way to the boy, stopping between his legs and biting into another strawberry. He gave him a thirsty look, grabbing his sides before claiming those lips, those lips that he longed for the whole night. Stan unwillingly raised his hands up, up around Kyle's shoulders. He tasted sweet. Fresh. Like strawberries. He didn't know whether it made him crave strawberries or Kyle more.

“You know very well you love long nights with me,” Kyle whispered before trailing the softest pecks down Stan's jawline, neck, stopping down at his collar bone. Stan let out a silent sigh, running his fingers over his lover's shoulders. He did, he knew he loved those evenings. He couldn't think of the last time someone made him feel as many things as Kyle did. Who made him laugh so much, made him long for every kiss, every touch, made him feel butterflies over and over. It was gentle, it was shy, it was loving, it was greedy, it was everything he wanted it to be. He couldn't believe it was real.

“Don't you want to put a shirt on?” he asked, feeling as the night was getting colder.

“Wouldn't that just be a waste of time?” Kyle winked at the boy, with that cheeky smile that made Stan's knees weak.

Before he could actually say anything, Kyle's attention went straight to the berries, stepping away so Stan couldn't reach them. If he could, he'd tease him for the whole night. There was something so incredibly fun about it, about his look. “Give me one!” Stan whined but didn't sit up from the fence once.

“What will I get in return?”

“The world.”

“You know you're my world. I’ve already got that.”

“You're not sweet-talking your way out of this!” he yelled after him, hiding behind a smile. A smile Kyle would love to see, it was his favorite. ‘My world,’ rang in his ears. He wanted to hear it again, he wanted to feel what he felt again.

Kyle couldn't resist any longer, giving up the berries. “Say ah,” he told Stan before bringing a strawberry up to his lips.

“Can you even try to do this more soft-core style?”

“Probably not.”

“That's great,” he laughed, finally taking a bite. It was the sweetest thing after all this teasing. Up until Kyle kissed him again. That was the sweetest.

Kyle draped the blanket over them, covering their shoulders and bringing Stan closer. He laid on his chest, settling himself on the couch, drawing circles on Kyle's collar bones. One kiss, another one, a few more, he gave Kyle all the kisses he could, from his lips to his neck to every place he could reach. He loved the look on his face. He never wanted to move one bit, Kyle's hand resting on his thigh. “I think I'm falling in love,” Kyle whispered, looking over at the forest.

“With who?”

“With the world.”

  
**Autumn**

_It was the fall. The leaves fell, the whole world seemed to just stop and go to sleep. You told me the opposite. You told me you wanted to wake up from this dream, as beautiful as it was. The world longed for the summer that was long gone and I think that was the case for you too. Our summer was gone. And it was time to put what we had to rest, no matter how much it hurt._

“I mean I don't... This is so hard. But... I think we should say goodbye.”

Kyle sat on the bench, trying to process what was happening. He didn't understand, he didn't want to understand what he was saying. Say goodbye.

“Kyle listen I... I guess we could make it work but-”

“Would you stay if I asked you to?”

Stan fell silent. He looked into Kyle's deep eyes, those deep eyes. His head started to hurt from trying to keep in all the tears. He promised himself he would stay strong, for both of them. His nose itched, the kind you feel when all your emotions are about to spill out. He brought his sleeve up to his eye, wiping away what came out. He shook his head. No. He wouldn't stay. “Then there’s no point.”

“I just... I just want you to know. This was a dream. This was such a fucking dream but I have to wake up.” He felt the tear drip but didn't care enough to stop it. He came closer to Kyle, holding his hand. He felt like this is the least he owes him.

Kyle tightly held his hand. He didn't want to, it was almost like a reflex, he did that the past months and it came so naturally. When he noticed, he immediately let go. He didn't want to make it harder than it was already. Although he didn't understand. He didn't understand a single word. But whatever he felt, he knew he had no right to make him stay, to bind Stan to him, to beg. To plead. No.

Stan sat down next to him, trying to look into his eyes but they were planted on the ground, looking at the freshly fallen leaves moving in the wind. “I... Kyle. Look at me.” And he continued when he did. With one more tear wetting his cheek. “You have so much love in you. So much love to give and that love wasn't meant for me. It wasn't, no. I can't give you back what you gave me. And you deserve it. You deserve the world.” Silence. Stan got choked up on his tears, hating that so many of them were falling out. No, no, stop it. They weren't supposed to. Kyle didn't even feel like crying. No, he felt empty. He deserved much more, maybe that was true. Maybe it was the reality but it wasn't one he wanted to explore. Would he rather live in a lie? Perhaps. Would it hurt more than this? He didn't know.

“It was a dream. It was a beautiful dream, an illusion, maybe a beautiful lie. Kyle, I don't know. But I need to wake up from this. But I want you to know... You gave me so much. I will never forget it. Never.” Kyle's heart refused to accept that this was a moment he was living through, that this was the reality happening at the moment. No. It hurt so bad.

“Never?”

“Never.” He felt a tear fall on his hand, squeezing Stan's hand one last time. He let go, feeling like he let go of so much more than just a person. Memories, time, dreams, illusions. He looked up at Stan and smiled. Goodbye. Goodbye, they said. As much as he wanted to say something more, anything, he couldn’t. His body didn’t allow it, feeling so empty and broken he could barely turn his neck to see Stan leave.

But he wanted to thank Stan. For letting him know. Maybe a hurtful truth is better. He didn't know. But what he had left, memories, he didn't want to spoil them, ruin them. For him, they were something special. No, he won't touch them with these awful feelings. He wanted to remember their dream for what it was, not what it could've been. The memory of them being happy, he didn't want that to be a regular memory, no, it was special, it was sacred for him. It held so much value. He looked at Stan. He was leaving. He wore his favorite scarf. Kyle sighed. He pulled out a folded paper from his pocket and a pencil from his coat.

**Winter**

  
_It was winter again. But this time, I wasn't searching for inspiration. I had plenty. Ever since we parted ways years ago, I learned how to reach deeper into my heart. You showed me feelings I don't think anyone ever could. I still think about our days together. Thank you._

Kyle's pencil moved around the paper, sketching whatever came to mind. His coffee has gone cold and he was getting lost in his thought process. The music they played in the café rang somewhere in the back of his brain but he paid it no attention. His mind was focused on the sketches and doodles on his paper, some crossed out, some blacked out. A logo, a logo for a stupid IT company. That's where his creativity and talent went now.

The seat in the back of the café was basically his. The baristas knew him by name and knew his regular order by heart. So often he would come and sit when he needed to change the environment of his balcony, sit in the back of a nearby café and work and scribble away until he was satisfied with the results. Looking at the paper, he saw a few decent ideas, hoping the client will like them too.

“Mind if I sit?”

Kyle looked up and his heart stopped. He forgot about his work as soon as he saw those deep eyes again, that nose, pink lips, messy hair. Stan. After all these years, he was there.

“No, of course not.” Kyle pulled all his papers and pencils away from the table, making more space. They weren't important right now. Stan sat down with his own drink and the same gentle smile Kyle remembered from years ago. He was afraid it's going to be awkward silence the whole time.

“It’s nice to see you. Five years, right?”

“Five.”

“God, that seems like a lot, doesn't it? And you don't look like you've changed one bit. How... how have you been doing?” Stan himself couldn't believe they met again. Was this the café where they went the first time they met? It probably was, he remembered sitting by the window. He forgot he was in a hurry, he forgot about his plans.

Kyle looked at the logos. How has he been doing? It took him some time to find joy in painting when Stan left. Or was it painting that put him back on his feet? He knew brushstrokes were the only love that won't leave him. “I...have been good. Life's good now,” he said with a little smile, looking out to see the snowy park, it was snowing again today. Life's good, life's okay.

“You working on something new now?”

Kyle twisted the sketches in his hands. “I mean it's not the creative work of my dreams but it pays the bills.” Pause. Stan wasn't even looking at him, he was staring into his coffee, there seemed to be something on his mind. What was he thinking about, Kyle thought. “What about you?”

“Oh, I'm great. Life's really treating me better than it should. Kyle, I-... can I ask you something?”

Kyle's heart shrunk in size. It was a question he hated, so so much. Stan's mind still looked puzzled. “Sure.”

“Right after we ended things. You put out a cycle. How did you call it, four seasons? That's right, isn't it? I-... I saw it in the gallery when it was out. Those... those weren't just random locations you painted, right?”

Kyle tried to hide his little smile. Stan knew very well those were not just random locations. He could draw them with his eyes closed right now if he had to. After their separation, he spent so much time on them. They helped him heal. They helped him understand, come to terms with everything. He knew every brushstroke by heart. They weren't just ordinary landscape paintings for him. When he looked at them, he could feel those feelings again. He enclosed those precious memories in that cycle, all his emotions, he mixed them into the paint and created trees and skies and snow and grass. He looked at them and felt the love, the hurt, the passion, the anger, the joy. He put it all in the paintings so he wouldn't have to feel it all alone no more. And people liked it. People felt with him, people understood. “Art's up for interpretation.”

“It radiated such... happiness.”

“I guess sometimes it's better to create what you're missing.” He wasn't sad anymore. But it was important to create something that would bring the viewers joy and delight, peace of mind. That's what he wanted to put out at that moment, it wasn't his phase of raw, abstract art. Art was his joy and love and life partner and he wanted to present it that way.

“It was breathtaking.” A wave of delight overcame Stan. He remembered all those sketches Kyle used to do, everywhere and always. It would annoy him sometimes but watching him get lost in his art always strung something in his heart. He still had some of the sketches Kyle have him. He never had enough of a gut to throw them out. If nothing, this is the part of Kyle that remained with him. Stan knew that it wasn’t the only part. He can try and pray but those memories and feelings will never go away. He cherished them, he wouldn’t want them to disappear.

“Because you shared those memories and feelings with me.”

“You're still wearing that scarf,” Kyle pointed out, tugging on it lightly as they left the café. It was like their first winter. Yet again, it was snowing lightly, covering everything in a thin snow blanket.

“Yeah, it... it stayed with me since.”

The walk through the park was pleasant. They laughed and remembered their times together, both content with what had happened. It was careful and soft, both cautious of what they said. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“I mean love comes and goes.” Kyle's eyes were planted on the ground. He dreaded the question a little bit. Yeah, he had some people come into his life but there was no one like Stan. There wasn't a muse. But that's okay. Because he taught him how to look for inspiration in yourself instead of others.

Stan didn't answer. Kyle debated looking to see if he has a ring or not. He did. A delicate golden ring on his finger. It didn't hurt him, it didn't even surprise him. It was a chapter ended for him.

A few minutes later, they found themselves at the end of the park. Time to part their ways.

“It was so nice seeing you.”

“You too.”

Stan took a deep breath and took Kyle's hand. “Thank you.” Kyle didn't understand. “I don't know if I've said this before but... thank you for those months.” Kyle still didn't understand but he looked into those eyes again and he suddenly did. He saw everything he needed and it brought a smile on his face. You're welcome, he thought. He never thought a look could say so much. Stan took the smile as an answer.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” With that, Stan gave Kyle one last kiss. He brought his hand to his cheek and wondered, how in such cold weather, a person could make him feel so warm.

Thank you for reading!! Hope you enjoyed it, would very much like to hear your thoughts and ideas, or something you’d like to see next! Literally anything!!! Leave it below if you’d like, would be like super tight!


	3. I Have Your Name on My Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have you found your soulmate yet?

inspired by a writing prompt i came across on ig

“Stan, slow down,” Kyle panted, dragging an unbelievably heavy suitcase. It was twisting and turning on the hotel carpet, making it that much difficult to carry. He thought his backpack would be the problem but it didn't seem like that once he found his luggage at the airport. Stan was way ahead, excitedly running a few feet in front of him, looking for their room.

“You should've packed less,” he teased his friend, patting the little suitcase that he pulled with ease. He could feel Kyle's nasty glare on his back.

“You act like half of my bag isn't your God-damned shoes.”

Stan scanned the numbers on the doors. 605, 607, 609,... 611! There it was. He waited for Kyle to shuffle to their room, sticking one of the cards into the slot on the door. He pushed them open, almost letting them fall on Kyle who was still having trouble with his luggage. “I guess the trip officially began.”

While Stan took the liberty of checking out the whole room and terrace, Kyle's only wish was to curl up on the bed and sleep until tomorrow. It didn't matter that it was barely 4 PM. He was tired and nothing Stan will say will make him go out. Forget go out, he won't move a finger. “We can see the sea!” Stan ran back into the room excitedly, hopping on Kyle's bed with enough force to make him bounce. But he didn't move, weakly giving his friend a thumbs up and ignoring any other comments he made.

“Is there AC?” he mumbled into the bed, lying face down since they arrived. Stan grew impatient, he was ready to change and go enjoy the beach and the sun and everything about this place. He wasn't getting the same vibe from Kyle, who didn't move an inch from the bed, not even to remove his hoodie in the scorching weather.

“There is, but you'll have to stand up to go turn it on,” Stan sighed, drumming on Kyle's back. It didn't seem to do anything, not even annoy him to the point of moving away. Next step was to turn him over. That would be a start. Stan slipped his hands under Kyle and pushed up, telling him to loose weight in the process. After a while of trying, he flipped the whole man over.

“I feel like a pancake.”

“Come on, let's go outside,” Stan whined, grabbing his friend’s wrists and trying to pull him up. Seeing it won’t work, he made his way to his suitcase to pull out some lighter clothes. He was already sweating in the room, he didn't even want to imagine what it would be like outside on the sun. He was determined on dragging his friend out of the room, whether he’d cooperate or not. He wasn’t afraid to use force.

“Why did you chose the beach?” Kyle sat up, giving Stan a tired look but he didn't even raise his eyes up from his luggage.

“I love the beach!”

“You're only like 50% of our team.”

“Well, you love Mai Tais and wear those awful Hawaiian shirts and, frankly, that's enough of an agreement for me.” Touché. The promise of a drink by a sunset might make Kyle reconsider not leaving the room. “Also you said you didn't care, you'd pay for whatever. Next time, you chose.”

“You did me dirty, bud. We could've gone to the amusement park or something.”

“Oh, absolutely not. Not after that kid almost threw up on my shoes. My shoes, you hear? My shoes! That's no place for me. Or better, for them. Come back when you can hold your lunch in your stomach, little lad.” Stan turned his attention to his friend, trying to get him off the bed again. Would he have to resort to dirty tactics? “Come on,” he pulled his hoodie up, trying to save him from death of overheating. “Put on one of those awful shirts and we'll go explore.”

“That sounds terrible. Lot of work.”

Stan knew it was bad when Kyle stopped forming complete sentences. At times, he couldn't believe this dude was his soulmate. He didn't choose him, the world chose them together. And if it weren't for the drawings and writings they shared on their skin, maybe he wouldn't have believed it at all. “I swear, the universe assigned you to me as a punishment.”

“The best punishment you could get,” Kyle added, throwing his hoodie on the bed and dragging himself towards the door. He knew it was the only sensible way of shutting Stan up. “You coming?”

Stan looked at his friend, seeing he’s wearing a thick shirt and long jeans. That man did not understand what ‘the beach’ and ‘summer weather’ meant. “Dude, you'll be hot.”

“I'm already a fine piece of ass. Come on.”

*

“Regretting your decisions?” Stan cheekily asked, swirling around an ice cube in his water. He watched Kyle pat his neck with a tissue, looking as if he's about to dry out and shiver up. He was glad he found a little spot by the beach where they could enjoy the weather and the beach and burn, respectively.

“I can't say I'm completely content with the decisions I made,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes because he knew Stan was right. He looked around at the people walking around in swimsuits, lying on the beach or swimming in the water. Oh, the water looked amazing at that moment. He watched it crash on the rocks below them. If he had a little less self control and shame, he’d be down there in seconds. He was feeling so hot, he wondered whether he'd be able to take his jeans off later at the hotel, or if they are now permanently stuck on him.

“Beach tomorrow?” Stan asked, nodding his head towards the sunbeds and sun chairs by the sea, they looked like the whole part belonged to the hotel they were staying in. “I booked one of those beds there.”

“You got us a wholeass bed by sea?” Kyle’s expression brightened up, Stan could see the glee on his face when he realized he could just lay there with a cold drink and the new Pokémon game the whole day. And he wouldn't even have to be in the sun, the beds have a tiny roof. Amazing, truly a step forward for the mankind.

Stan shook his head. “I just wanted to have a bed on the beach but since you're here...” he laughed, immediately feeling Kyle kick him as a warning. “You know we'll have to share it, babe.”

“Oh, you already lost your beach bed privileges, mister,” Kyle hissed, finishing his drink but before he could say anything more, he was quickly shut up by a ball flying his way. It hit his stomach before he could catch it, Kyle spilling profanities.

“Oh, sorry,” a boy yelled, running to them. There was a bit of fear in his eyes, seeing their ball hit someone. Stan picked the ball up, throwing it back. “Sorry again! My boyfriend's just really shitty at volleyball.”

“It's okay!” Stan yelled back, still laughing at Kyle clutching his stomach and trying to keep his curses as quiet as possible. “Off to a great start, I see.”

*

Stan laid on the bed, waiting for his friend to finish getting ready. It was almost night time and after a long day spent outside, Kyle convinced him to go out for a drink. He looked around the room, seeing a footprint on the wall. He immediately thought of last night they spent watching movies in peace until a mosquito came round, forcing Stan to leave the room quicker than Kyle had ever seen him move. He peeked from the bathroom, watching Kyle figure out how to get the mosquito off the wall, it sat up high. With little hesitation, Kyle grabbed a sneaker from the ground, hurling it up at the bloodthirsty beast. It did its work but also left a footprint on the wall, right where it hit the bug.

He stuck his hands up, observing all the little words and doodles that were stuck on his skin forever. Kyle's looked the same. Identically. His soulmate. Stan smiled. He had his soulmate. The word warmed his heart. In fact, he was sure he had it written somewhere. On his back. It was Kyle's work after a few glasses of wine on their last trip together. All in his feelings, he grabbed a pen and scribbled it on Stan’s back, feeling the need to write it down. That they were, in fact, soulmates. Kyle kept repeating how he much he loved him and how he was his star in the night sky. Or that’s what Stan could make out of it. He didn’t know how seriously to take him, considering he spent the previous half an hour convincing Stan that stars are just holes in the container so we could breathe. He wrote it anyway, on his back with a black pen, the same appearing on Kyle’s back. That's the way it worked with soulmates. That’s how you knew.

But it was such a strange concept. That there's one person for you out there that just gets you. All of you. Your good days and your bad days. Someone who's your quiet place. You can feel their pain, share their joy. It's a beautiful harmony of two people.

Having a soulmate makes you a softer person. It lets you know that you've found unconditional love, in one form or another. For everyone, it was different. For some, it was their lover. For others, a friend. For some, both. Maybe a sibling. Maybe some people had more soulmates. People usually kept it to themselves, it was a sensitive matter. There were soulmates in all different shapes and forms. It was a peculiar thing the universe arranged. A soulmate lets you be who you are. And is, who they are. It's so authentic. You may feel the connection immediately, you may not. It may take time, to grow and bloom.

For some, they just know. Others, sometimes they find each other by the drawings and marks on their skin. What you draw on your skin appears on your soulmate’s. Some refuse to mark their skin. Soulmate or no soulmate, they are happy with the person they are with now. Some don't want to know who their soulmate is, feeling as if it’s too restrictive. They don’t want to tie themselves to one person. Some are obsessed with finding their soulmate. People differ.

Can you lose a soulmate? You probably can. He heard stories of people's symbols disappearing. Some got them back, made up with their soulmate. Some lost them. It was a delicate balance. Do you get a new soulmate? That's a hard question. Stan wasn't completely sure about losing your soulmate in the first place. The connection he felt with Kyle, it was something he never thought he could lose. It was very special.

Stan looked at his pinky finger. There was a tiny smiley face on the side. That one was his work. When Kyle was going through a bad break up and didn't return his calls or answer any texts. This was his quiet way of telling him, everything will be fine. And it was. And there was a little smiley face on their pinkies to symbolize it. Everything will be okay.

Kyle had the locks to fit Stan's keys and keys to fit Stan's locks. They felt whole together and trusted each other, feeling the deep-seated connection whenever they looked at each other. It was like a complete puzzle. A beautiful picture.

Stan was brought out of his thoughts by Kyle exiting the bathroom. “You spent this whole time on your hair?”

“Yeah.”

“Should've spent it on changing your shirt,” Stan snickered, poking fun at his friend's patterned shirt he loved to mock. He was pretty sure they're all he brought to their holiday. In return, he got a pillow thrown into his face.

“You’re just jealous you can’t pull this off, babyboy.”

They finally managed to make their way down, grabbing drinks at the beach bar. The night was warm and wet, what you'd expect when walking by the sea. A few lights poking from the ground illuminated the sand and beach beds, exactly where the boys headed. Although they spent most of their day there, Stan in the sea and Kyle hiding from the world on the bed, they returned gladly. Whenever Stan would return from the water, Kyle would smack him with the towel until he put it on, refusing to make the bed he was lying on wet and sandy. It took Stan a lot of convincing and even more force to get Kyle even close to the water. But once he got there, he left nothing short of soaking wet. It was fun, but there was no way he'd admit that in front of Stan. They found a starfish on the rocks together. He drew a little one on his thigh, waiting to see if Stan will notice. He liked to keep memories like these from their trips. They were his favorite. Even with scorching hot weather or Stan dodging every kid that just got off a roller coaster or slipping on the wet leaves in the park or just playing video games in Stan's room. He enjoyed his company.

His friend arrived with their drinks, joining him on the bed. The sea calmly came back and forth, crashing on nearby rocks. It was a calming sight, an even better sound. They could listen to it for hours. Crickets sang in the background. That was nice too. They looked at the city nearby, glimmering in the moving sea. “It's so pretty,” Kyle whispered, leaning on the bedpost and taking a sip from his long-awaited Mai Tai. This is what a vacation feels like. He laid his head on his friend's shoulder, trying to soak every second of this evening, of this trip, before coming back. It was nothing short of perfect.

Stan finished his drink already, contemplating getting another one. But they were both disturbed by a couple arriving at the bed next to them, sitting down and laughing loudly. Stan thought one of the boys looked familiar, it was the one that came running back for the volleyball. He finally saw his boyfriend. They looked very happy together.

The boy looked around, catching the sight of Kyle and Stan by their side. He immediately relived the horror of shooting the ball into someone's stomach, even though it was his partner's fault. And his boyfriend knew, standing up and approaching the friends. “Excuse me,” he approached them, waiting to get their attention. “I'm so sorry for shooting the ball into you yesterday. He,” the guy pointed at the boy sitting on the bed next to them, “tried to teach me how to play volleyball but I'm so miserably shit at it. Hope it didn't cause too much trouble.”

Kyle couldn't help but wince at the memory but more so at how guilty the boy looked. He looked so sorry, it wasn't even that much of a deal. “Maybe we could invite you two for a drink? To get even.”

*

“I'm Kenny,” the volleyball protégé introduced himself before leaving the table to go pick up their cocktails. The other guy introduced himself too, his name was Butters. They seemed very nice. Well, they were very nice. Around their age, from a city not far away. They learned it was their first trip together as a couple. They've been together for little over half a year.

Stan looked at them and saw a strong connection. The way they looked at each other, Kenny playing with Butters’ hand the whole evening, the way they spoke about each other. You'd think they're made for each other. “I see you two found each other,” Butters laughed, observing their arms and what essentially looked like tiny couple tattoos.

“Yeah,” Kyle smiled, running his fingers over the memories drawn on his arm.

“When did you find out? If you... Don't mind me asking,” Kenny snooped but all in all, both of them were keen to talk about it. It was nice to relive those moments once again.

Stan started. They just started high school. It was a foreign place for both of them, new people, new everything. They both created their own circle of friends. Time went on, they barely even looked at each other in the class. But there was this one geography test. And that wasn't Stan's strongest part. He knew he'd have to cheat just to barely pass the class. He wrote all the answers he needed to know on a few little papers, spread around his sitting place for help. Shortly before the test, he realized he forgot the biggest lakes and the numbers he needed. No paper in sight, he wrote them on the side of his middle finger, not caring that they're there forever and not even realizing they're on his soulmate's finger forever too. That isn't something a sixteen-year-old thinks about.

It all went well. The test was easy, he was good at avoiding the teacher's gaze. All went smooth until Kyle's test was snatched right out from his eyes, torn up in seconds. ‘You cheated,’ the teacher reasoned her decision, failing him in seconds. Kyle didn't understand a thing, pissing off the teacher even more. It took him minutes to notice the lakes on his finger. He had no idea where they came from. And that just sounds like a bad excuse. “He made me fail the whole test,” Kyle laughed at the memory now but back then, he was dead set on finding the culprit. And he eventually did. Anger was later changed into this sort of weird realization that he probably found his soulmate. It was strange.

“And that's why we have the three largest freshwater lakes on our middle fingers,” Stan chuckled, showing them to the boys. Lake Superior, Lake Victoria, and Lake Huron scribbled in almost unreadable handwriting.

The conversation turned into them explaining their doodles and words, the pair that they met invested in every story. They asked about specific ones, it was nice to talk about those dumb memories.

The telephone number they had on they both had on their forearms. There was no exciting story behind it, just a girl scribbling it on Kyle's arm in the club. But he kept it because of the memories of eating pizza in the town park at one AM. The buses stopped going, and they had no cash on them for a taxi. The best they came up with was to go have a pizza in the park. They didn't even remember how they got home in the end. They could’ve gotten it off. Kyle could’ve washed it off at the club, before it left a mark. But he forgot, having you much fun with his friends. He heard there were gels for that too now, but they burned like hell and there was a chance of leaving a scar. Was there a reason to remove it though? It only brought back sweet memories.

Kyle's name under their ribs. It was a high school party one of their friends threw. It was getting a little wild. Kyle tried to excuse the whole dumb idea with being under the influence. Stan was too. He thought it was so important to write his name on Stan's rib. So he'd remember who his soulmate was. “We’re like... totally best friends. Like I love you, man. Dude. I-... I should write my name on you or some shit. I’ll write my name there. Dude, that’s cool,” Stan imitated his friend, laughing at how much of a dumb idea it was. Now they both had Kyle’s name on their ribs.

  
Kenny asked about the writing on their right hands. It was bigger, compared to the other ones. It was placed between their elbows and wrists, but still wasn’t what you’d call huge. “You’re my peace of mind,” Kenny read out loud, scanning the pretty cursive handwriting. “Who wrote that?”

Stan glanced at his friend, knowing it’s his story. There wasn’t much to say about it. After his break up, he was in a bad place. A very bad place that not even Stan could drag him out of. He tried, he really did but Kyle only closed doors and isolated himself. That was probably the longest they spent apart since learning they’re soulmates. It took a toll on both of them. Kyle noticed. He still felt like shit, but it was so much worse without Stan on his side, especially after getting into a fight about the whole situation. But he wasn’t strong enough to call him. He didn’t want to leave his room. But this he could do. He grabbed a pen off his desk, scribbling on his arm, letting Stan know. That he was his peace of mind.

It wasn’t the story that was important to them. It was knowing, that they’re here for the long run. That no matter how far from each other they are, how long they didn’t see each other, they still love one another the same. And that’s what mattered to them.

Stan looked down at his leg, seeing a word under his knee in terrible handwriting. ‘Dick’. It just read ‘dick’. That wasn’t a story he was going to share. There wasn’t much to it, other than Kyle being pissed off that Stan beat him in his favorite video game. He didn’t even realize he’ll have it on his knee forever too. Stan still used it as an opportunity to remind him that he, in fact, won. And he’ll do it again.

There were many doodles without any real meaning. A few flowers up on their thighs. The whole story is that Stan forgot about the soulmate reality and drew on his thigh while studying for his test. In a state of boredom, even drawing flowers was more gripping than learning. Up until he received a text from his friend, asking what the fuck the flowers were supposed to be.

Or the Pink Floyd logo on the bicep. They both love the band. That’s it.

  
There were many more that they didn’t talk about. They weren’t as important and both felt like they’d be taking too much of the couple’s time. “You two don’t have any?” Stan asked, noticing that as far as he could see, they didn't have one mark.

“No, not really,” Butters smiled, rubbing his partner's thigh under the table. He knew it'd be a little hard to explain. “We prefer not to know.” He explained that they both had their relationships end for the same reasons. Some people ended it because they found out they weren't soulmates. They ended a working, thriving relationship because a drawing didn't appear on both of their wrists. Some ended it because both Butters and Kenny refused to check if they were soulmates with their respective partners. It was stupid to just let go of a relationship because you weren't soulmates. That didn't mean there wasn't love. It wasn't a rule of the universe to stay with just and only your soulmate. Being in a relationship with someone who isn’t your soulmate doesn’t mean you don’t love and care about and want each other. That you two can’t build on the things you two have already. It doesn’t mean you won’t last.

And that's what kept them from wanting to ever find out. “I love him, whether he is my soulmate or not, what's the point of finding out?” That was the important part. That there was love and there was trust and there was a connection. And that's what kept it going, not the universe finding your perfect match, but both halves putting in all they had. Some people didn't want a perfect match. Kenny didn't want a perfect match. He wanted Butters, for him, that was even better.

It was so sweet listening to them talk about their relationship. They really had a thing for each other and both Stan and Kyle could clearly see that. They could see it that much clearer after three rum-filled drinks. They bid their goodbyes, sure to see each other in upcoming days. Stan dragged Kyle to the beach, convincing him to go for a walk.

“You know, I'm glad you wrote those stupid lakes on your finger,” Kyle broke the silence after a while. It just felt like the right time to get into their feelings and get all soft and glad they have each other. He could blame it on the drinks if he wanted.

“Why's that, homeboy,” Stan laughed, but he was glad he decided to cheat on that test. “I just needed to pass a test.”

“I’m just- I’m lucky to have you.” Stan took that to the heart. He couldn’t help but smile until his cheeks hurt. He came over to his friend, draping his arm around him and pulling him closer while they continued to walk along the sea shore, just to let him know he feels the same.

He was a pain in the ass sometimes. But life without him would be so much worse. He didn't know where else to look for something like he had with Kyle. It's somethng you can't find, really. It's something that has to come on its own and you have to catch it and care for it until it blossoms into a beautiful relationship. He'd know they were soulmates even without the universe agreeing. Kyle was an extension of him and he couldn't really imagine his life without his soulmate.

Being togehter felt like being home.

“I guess we were meant to be.”

“We sure were.”

They sure were.

thank you all for reading!! make sure to let me know what you think


	4. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every lie leaves a scar

“So this is your place, huh?” Stan chuckled, leaning on the wall while he waited for Kyle to fiddle with the keys. He shook them, trying to get them to untangle and find the one from his apartment. Every time he looked at Stan, he gave him a wink, making it that much harder.

Kyle poked his thigh with the key, telling him to shut up. The whole apartment lit up, both of them finding their way into the kitchen. “I'm glad you walked me home tonight.”

“Well I've heard that we're like a great match so... I'm glad you invited me in for a drink.” Stan took a few steps closer to Kyle who was taking out glasses from the cabinet.

“How could I pass up on an opportunity like that. What's your poison?”

“Would it be too cheesy if I said you?”

“Absolutely. Are- Are you flirting with me?”

“Oh, you just noticed?”

“No, I noticed when we moved in together, you dork,” Kyle giggled, giving Stan a little slap on the arm so he'd stop with the silly game. Stan had the words on the tip of his tongue but couldn't get them out, his mind stopping at the sight of Kyle's smile and the sound of his laugh. He stopped in his tracks, admiring the face he had the luck of waking up next to each morning.

Kyle noticed the silence, seeing that all the attention is on him. He felt all the blood rushing into his cheeks, even after all this time. That's the power Stan's looks had over him. “No, seriously, what do you want to drink.”

“Just water. I'm still a little woozy from the club.” The world wasn't spinning but it seemed it a little nicer. He wasn't sure if it were the drinks though. It always seemed a little nicer when he was with Kyle. He felt the sudden urge to pull him closer and let him know that. He grabbed him by the belt loops, making him back up into him.

Kyle laughed, barely putting the glasses down and stopping the faucet. “Dude, your water.” But he forgot about the water as soon as he felt his back hit Stan's chest. He spun around, staring directly into his face. He couldn't hide his little smile. “Can you not wait five seconds?”

“I really can't,” he mumbled, feeling Kyle's breath on his face. The overwhelming need to kiss him ran through him but he stopped himself, knowing Kyle just wants a kiss too. He liked to tease him to the limit.

Kyle's hands ran up his chest, resting on his shoulders, drawing small circles with his fingers. They came over a small scar on his neck, it’s always been there. Just a little one but big enough for you to see it. He grabbed Stan’s hands, lifting them and turning them palms up. He looked over the tiny, tiny scars on his fingertips. Those were all the little lies he told.

With each lie, you get a scar. There were small scars, tiny ones. Those appeared when you told a white lie. Like the ones on Stan’s fingers. That’s where his little scars showed. They don’t even hurt, you barely notice you have them. There were also bigger scars, deeper ones. The bigger the lie, the deeper it cut.

Kyle has seen people with deep, deep scars. Across their chests, faces, backs. Those must’ve hurt. You could feel them ripping open, bleeding. Sometimes, you’d see it on the street. It wasn’t a pretty sight. But it was the universe’s way of telling you lying’s wrong.

You'd feel where the wound would form, when it was a bigger one. It’d start to burn a little before actually opening up.

You'd see all kinds of people. Some were scarred from head to toe. Even though it was none of your business, you'd wonder. Where did they come from? Especially the big ones. What lie did they tell?

Or people who had no visible scars. They must be somewhere hidden then. There wasn't a person with no scars. And if he said he had none, he had just earned himself another scar. All people have said lies, smaller or bigger ones.

Stan laughed, watching as Kyle ran his fingers over the scars on his fingertips. It was so gentle, it almost tickled. “Looking to see if there's any more?” Stan teased, enjoying Kyle’s panicked face.

He immediately let go of his hands, panicked that Stan might think he’s checking on him. “No, no, it’s just... It’s just interesting,” he laughed, giving his hands a little kiss.

But before he could say anything else, Stan was already dragging him out of the kitchen by his belt loops, forgetting about his water altogether.

*

Kyle couldn't help glancing at the clock every five minutes, wondering where Stan was. His work ended some hours ago but there was no trace of him. Kyle knew that he shouldn't worry, that it was stupid. He’s a grown man, for Christ's sake. But there was a little bug in him, making him wonder if everything's okay. He called him, sent him a little text telling him to take care. He knows he shouldn't worry.

The show that was on the TV went completely past him, his mind wasn't able to follow the plot. It was their favorite show too.

The door opened, Stan tiredly greeting his partner. He didn't even give him a proper look before leaving into the bedroom but soon enough realized there's his boyfriend in the living room. He dragged himself across the flat, throwing himself down on the couch next to Kyle. He laid down into his lap, mumbling a quiet ‘hi’, sounding a little happier than before. He wrapped his arms around Kyle, pulling him closer as he asked him where he was.

“Had to stay in late,” he groaned, tapping his fingers on Kyle's back. He looked exhausted, Kyle didn't know whether he should stay still or carry him into the bed.

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

Kyle tried to chat with Stan some more but all he got were short answers. But it was understandable, seeing how he's barely keeping his eyes open.

“Do you want me to play it from the beginning? I didn't even get to watch it,” Kyle laughed, expecting Stan to agree, they always watched it on Wednesday evenings. But instead, he only received a little kiss on the cheek, Stan telling him he's too tired and going straight to bed. Kyle looked at the clock. Ten. It wasn't that late. But he let it go, seeing that Stan barely kept his eyes open.

He was left in the room alone, alone with his thoughts and the bug inside him telling him maybe a omething's off. He's just paranoid, he’s always been. And everything always turned out well. He had to stay in late, didn't have time to check his phone. Simple. He was annoyed at how much it bothered him.

Kyle stood up, going to the kitchen to grab a drink. He passed a mirror, noticing a smudge on his shirt. He paid it no attention at first but on his way back he stopped there, checking it out.

Blood.

How in the world did he get blood there? His mind went through all scenarios, realizing it's from when Stan came home.

“Hey, babe?” Kyle entered their bedroom, finding Stan awake, pale blue light illuminating the room. He looked up from his phone, finding his boyfriend sitting on the other side of the bed. “I had blood on my... On my shirt. I think it’s... From you,” he whispered, quite unsure how to ask his boyfriend about it. Stan could hear that. He sighed, putting his phone away.

“Okay, look, I just didn’t want you to worry, okay? I didn’t have time to grab lunch or anything because the whole system stopped working. Just didn’t want to bother your pretty head.” He yawned, pulling Kyle on the bed with him. He whispered a sweet sorry before turning away and falling asleep.

*

“Dude, what are you so dressed up for?” Kyle looked up from his video game, watching Stan run around the apartment. He was frantically buttoning up his shirt, checking the clock to see if he's late. It was a little out of character for him, he always liked to snuggle up in big hoodies. If he didn't know any better, Kyle would guess he's getting ready for a date.

“Just hanging out with the guys,” he yelled from the other room. Oh, Kyle forgot, he mentioned it a few days back. “They wanted to try out this new place in town. Had to dress the part,” he laughed, leaning on the doorframe, hands in pockets. Kyle wished him a good time, stopping the game once again to properly say bye. He stood up but Stan was already almost out of the door, catching the last finishing touches.

“You're using something new?” Kyle stopped, noticing Stan didn't smell like spices and cinnamon. He always did, anyway. It was Kyle's favorite, borrowing his shirts or falling asleep next to him.

“Yeah, decided to try out something new. You like it?”

“Sure, you smell like a whole forest,” Kyle teased him, leaning on for a little make-up kiss but Stan only scrambled for his keys and wallet, giving his partner a little wave before running out of the door.

Kyle was left stumped, a little confused as of why Stan was rushing so much. He knew his buddies would be late anyway. But if they're trying out a new spot, and by the looks of it, a fancy one, maybe they had a reservation. Or maybe it was someone's birthday. Yeah, yeah that's probably it, Kyle assured himself before returning to his game to take his mind off of things.

*

It was a lazy Sunday morning. Kyle turned off all alarms, deciding to sleep in with Stan. He woke up, stretching his arms and turning around to see an empty bed. The whole apartment was quiet too.

Kyle checked his phone, there were no messages. He wondered where Stan could be.

He dragged himself out of bed, deciding whether there's a point in looking for him. These past days he acted so strangely and Kyle couldn't put his finger on it. He tried to convince himself it was just his work like he said. And he was succeeding at it. But a little voice was still asking if there's something more behind it. He seemed so distant these past days. Kyle didn't really want an explanation. He just wanted to help him if he was going through a lot, he didn't like seeing him like that. That's what he's here for, after all.

Before Kyle could get up and search for his boyfriend, he heard the door unlock. He leaned forward, seeing from the bed into the hall. Stan looked like he just came from a run. “Stan?”

“Yeah?” He took his headphones off and came to check in on Kyle. “Sorry if I woke you up. I tried to sneak out as quiet as I could.”

“No, no, I just woke up. You... went out for a run?” He could see Stan frown, obviously offended by the remark.

“Yeah, why?” Kyle could feel him getting more and more agitated.

“You always hated running.”

“Well, I decided to give it another chance. Trying to do something good for me,” he growled before quickly locking himself in the bathroom.

Kyle just heard the shower run and that was the only thing keeping him from drowning in his own thoughts. Why was Stan so prickly lately? He never had a short-temper. What was hanging in the air?

Kyle's mind was racing with unwanted thoughts.

Something was wrong.

*

Kyle searched for his keys, he never knew where he put them. The day was going so badly, if he didn't find them in the next three seconds, he might break down. Work sucked all of his energy out, his co-workers were sick or took days off, leaving him to deal with both patients and papers. It wasn't even his turn today.

He slowly opened the door, only to find Stan in the kitchen, preparing something. As soon as he noticed him, he made his way into the hall, greeting Kyle with a little welcome kiss. “Glad you're home.”

Kyle was still confused as to what was happening. The whole apartment was dark, except the kitchen and living room, which were lit dimly. Stan seemed to change his whole personality, a completely different person than he was yesterday. Kyle appreciated the change, oblivious to where it came from.

“Is everything okay?” he cautiously asked, peeking into the living room. The couch was pulled out, stacked onto it were blankets and pillows, he never knew they owned so many blankets.

Stan gave him a guilty look. “Yeah, it's just... I know I haven't really been here these past days. Or... Or weeks. I wanted to say sorry. It really wasn't fair,” he apologized and Kyle could hear the guilt in his voice. He forgot about the mess in his workplace, his mind fully occupied with Stan now. He didn't know what to say, giving Stan an assuring smile instead. 

He was pulled into the room, he sat on the couch while Stan brought out a box of pizza and a few bottles of beer from the kitchen. He put them on the table, climbing onto the couch. “Come on, we'll have a nice evening. Watch a trashy movie. Talk until morning. Just like we used to.”

Kyle tried to hide the big smile but failed miserably. It was exactly like when they were just starting out. Every little touch, it was there.

He remembered so clearly, it was a night like this he realized he was falling for Stan. That was some years ago, shortly after college. The movie was long over, beer bottles empty and the sun was about to come out. And they just sat on the couch, talking. And talking. He remembered looking at Stan, lost in the words he was saying. Lost in his eyes. His mind couldn't catch the words he was saying when they locked eyes. And he so vividly remembered Stan learning in for a kiss at the end of that night.

Blood rushes into his cheeks and he found a perfect place on the sofa, grabbing a slice and waiting for his partner to play whatever movie. It was never important, rarely they watched the whole thing. They sat next to each other, close, but barely touching. A part of Kyle wanted to immediately sit in Stan’s lap, cutting the whole night short. Another part of him wanted to savor every moment, just like when they were too afraid to even hold hands. He noticed Stan smelled like cinnamon again. He knew Kyle adored it. To him, it smelled like home.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being so distant. Work’s crazy and I have a lot on my mind and... And I hope I can be here more for you.”

Kyle watched him suddenly curse as he reached over to the table, sucking on his thumb immediately. “What's wrong?” Kyle asked, seeing that his finger is still bleeding. He said he cut his finger on the pizza box. Kyle proceeded to dab his finger with a tissue while Stan continued to apologize for the past few days.

Kyle just whispered a quiet ‘it’s okay’ but before he could say anything more, Stan interrupted him. “Look, I got you something.” He reached down, behind the sofa, pulling out a teddy bear. It was almost the same as the one he got him on his second date, except bigger but with the same bow-tie and writing on its foot.

Kyle felt awful. He felt awful because of all the thought he had these past days. He blamed his wandering mind for coming up with such explanations and scenarios. He believed them for a moment. He never wanted to doubt Stan or his loyalty. Hearing him say it’s work and all and seeing he truly feels bad knocked those thoughts right out of his head. Stan, that’s what was on his mind now. Stan, Stan, Stan.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And everything felt right.

*

“Hey, could I borrow your laptop? Mine’s being repaired,” Kyle stuck his head into the bedroom with puppy eyes. “I just need to reply to some work emails.”

Stan said ‘sure’, pulling out his own laptop and logging in. His mind quickly went back to his book, barely paying attention to his boyfriend sitting next to him. It’s been a long time since he read a book, it was slowly gathering dust on his bedside table.

Kyle was doing his work, finishing up but a quick notification popped up in the upper right corner. Stan must have his phone and laptop connected. “Hey, I don’t mean to read your texts but someone’s asking if the reservation for two at... God, I can’t read that, it’s french. If that’s still up.”

Stan looked at him wide-eyed, not expecting it to pop up on his laptop. He swiftly took it from Kyle, answering the message. Kyle's wheels started turning, wondering if it's for them or someone else and Stan. He recognized the name, it was a fancy restaurant in the town. Stan looked fairly shocked and a little panicked that Kyle found out. Something didn't sit right. “You booked us a table?” he asked, trying to assure himself that after the date night, he had finally gotten his attitude together. He watched him closely, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth.

“Yeah, wanted to surprise you,” Stan gave him a little smile, quickly looking up from his laptop. He searched for his phone, rubbing his hand on his thigh. Kyle tried very hard to convince himself that he's just nervous because the surprise got ruined. That must be it, right? It must be.

“Great, tell them it's still up. What a great anniversary plan,” he stroked his thigh lightly before getting up and leaving the room. Stan's expression was enough for him, wide eyes and almost dropped his jaw. He struck a nerve, he thought. But he hoped he was wrong. Oh, how he hoped he was just paranoid.

Kyle wrapped himself around Stan's arm, hanging close as they made their way through the city at night. The dinner was already behind them as well as a few glasses of wine. The whole evening was so well-thought-out, Kyle was sure Stan must've planned this out for them. It left him feeling guilty again, that he doubted him. He squeezed his hand and looked up at his boyfriend, seeing that look and smile he was so weak for.

The cold river air was keeping him awake and sober and they slowly walked past the boats and benches, speaking very little. They didn't need to. Stan stroking his hand with his thumb and occasionally giving his hair a kiss was all he needed at that moment. And he chose to remember just that. He chose to forget how he seemed absent-minded the whole dinner, barely speaking. How Kyle basically had to drag him out for the walk, needing just a few more perfect moments in this fairytale that was falling apart in front of his eyes. He chose not to remember that the moment the apartment door closed, Stan leaned away from what would've been the only kiss of the night, saying he's too tired and disappearing in the bedroom. He didn't want to think about how he sat on the couch with a wine glass in his hand, sitting there in silence because he needed time to think. He didn't want to go sleep in the bed with Stan, he couldn't bear it. His mind was racing and even though he needed to sort it all out, he felt like he was drowning in his own thoughts.

He didn't want this to be the end of his fairytale. The end of a relationship, sure, but not the end of idyllic fantasy.

As much as he tried to deny it.

This was the end.

*

Kyle leaned on the kitchen counter, waiting for Stan to come home. He knew he'd be late, he always was. He'd come in, smiling widely. He seemed so happy, happier than when he was with him. It was like a needle into the heart. He didn't even have the decency to end things with Kyle, he wondered why. He wondered why every time he'd come home smelling like someone else. The past days, he got so sloppy at hiding it. Maybe he thought Kyle didn't figure out anything but he also knew his boyfriend wasn't an idiot.

Kyle promised himself he wouldn't shed any more tears. No more. Today was the last time he let himself cry over him. He didn't deserve a single tear that came out. They didn't mean anything to him. He didn't care how hurt Kyle was.

Things ended today. That's what Kyle told himself. He didn't have any more strength to continue on with this relationship. It will be better for him, for Stan, for whatever third party was involved in this.

Kyle blamed himself for dragging things out for so long, letting himself get hurt in the process. He almost felt ashamed of ignoring all the red flags, convincing himself he's just paranoid. He wasn't and deep down he knew it. But something in him always wanted to convince him that everything's fine and the worst he's thinking of is untrue.

He heard Stan's keys jingle, the door opening. His heart sunk, he felt like his stomach shrunk to the size of a pea. He didn't want to do this.

Stan walked in, again, with that happy smile on his face. It disappeared once he saw Kyle waiting for him. He looked so heartbroken, he could see it from the hall. “Hey, babe. Something wrong?” he cautiously asked, approaching his partner slowly. The worst came to his mind, almost certain that he caught up with him.

Kyle looked up from the ground, with a broken look that almost made Stan's knees weak to the point of not working. He knew. He knew everything.

“Yeah, a lot, actually.”

Kyle didn't know what to say. Neither did Stan. The deafening silence was all around, it was so uncomfortable that Kyle wanted to start screaming just so he wouldn't have to listen to it anymore. But couldn't bring himself to raise his voice. He spoke so quietly and slowly, barely finding the energy. “Are... Are you cheating?” He asked the obvious question. It lingered in the air the whole time. He didn't even need to say it out loud.

But once he did, it felt like a thousand knives were struck into Stan's heart. He knew what he was doing the whole time, he knew. But hearing it out loud, said by the person he loved the most, with those broken eyes, it was the worst thing he never imagined. He never realized how much he was hurting him. Just now, and he regretted every moment he spent away from him. Stan knew he couldn't turn back time. But he wished he could just disappear, rather than face Kyle and admit it. He didn't dare to look into his eyes again, knowing it'd break him.

He physically couldn't say yes. His tongue didn't allow it. He couldn't say no either, knowing a nasty wound would open up. He didn't want to embarrass himself like that since the truth was out there now.

“I see,” Kyle laughed sadly, looking away from him. He couldn't stand looking at him. He knew his feelings would start acting out again. He felt his nose itch, his head hurting from holding in the tears. Was there really a point in holding them in? He should let Stan see how hurt he really was.

He wanted to tell him how much he missed everything. How he missed his best friend, how he missed the passion, Stan's never-ending rambling about work, how they slow-danced in the dark when things got too tough for Kyle and he wanted to stop the tears from coming, how he missed every lazy morning. Hell, he even missed the arguments because at least then he knew Stan still cared for him, he missed the best and the worst, he missed Stan yelling at him that he still loves him in the middle of the kitchen during the arguments. He missed Stan's lips and his laughs and everything that made him fall in love with him. Where was it now? Making someone else fall in love.

But Stan didn't deserve to know that that. He wouldn't erase all the pain he caused, he couldn't. Kyle didn't know whether Stan still cared. That tore his heart right out. Did he still care about Kyle?

“Look I-... I can explain,” he whispered, coming closer to Kyle who stood his ground. He felt the familiar burning, on his chest instead of his fingers this time. He saw the blood slowly seep through his shirt, a small wound opening on his chest. It didn't hurt after that, he barely noticed.

But he couldn't explain it. He couldn't explain his cheating. He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was becoming too stale or him, he wanted something more exciting, something new, he had no idea. Nothing a tall with his partner would’t fix. But he didn’t know what he wanted, what was wrong. He went the easy route. It was selfish, so selfish of him. He never thought about how it'll mess with Kyle, not until he had him there, in front of his eyes, broken.

“You don't have to.”

It took Stan a lot of will, not to fall on his knees at that moment. His heart pounded for him, and he just stood there, not expecting an explanation and maybe not even an apology. He looked into Kyle's glossy eyes, grabbing his hands and putting them on his chest. He didn't know where to start, what to say. There was so much but it all seemed so empty. “I'm sorry. I didn't know wh- I'm- I'm so fucking sorry,” he whispered, feeling his own eyes water. But not a single scratch appeared on him. Kyle noticed. Kyle didn't care anymore.

He listened to him struggle with finding words, he listened to him say he loved him, that he was sorry, that they could change it all around. He must've gone for minutes. If Kyle didn't interrupt him when he did, he might've started to believe him. But to him, those were all promises he'd never keep. “Can you forgive me?” he asked, holding his hands tighter. “Can you?”

“I can't,” Kyle whispered, feeling his arm burn. No, not now. His forearm bled, giving Stan a simple answer.

“Look. Look what it's doing. Kyle, we can't let this go- We can't. There's still love. I still love you. You still-”

“I don't know if I do,” Kyle yelled, wincing in pain as the wound on his arm stretched further and deeper.

Stan couldn't stand this sight, seeing Kyle's arm bleed and doing nothing about it. He couldn't stand Kyle rejecting him, though he knew he was the one who doomed the whole relationship. He'd do anything to turn back time and get him back. He still loved him. No new wounds on his body, still.

He let go of his hands, caressing Kyle's cheek instead. He never wanted to let go of him. “Kyle, stop. You're hurting yourself, baby, you're hurting.”   
Kyle didn't need Stan to remind him of that. He was hurting. But it hurt even before he ended it. He watched tears escape Stan's eyes, a little voice was telling him he deserved it, another one was telling him to wipe them away and never let go of him. “Stan, please, go.” His hands were free, he hid them behind his back. He didn’t wipe his own tears.

“No, I-”

“Stan, please. Please, I want you to leave,” Kyle whispered. Stan didn't argue anymore. He didn't want to leave but he felt like he owed it to Kyle. He owed him everything. He loved him and this was the least he could do. He turned around.

He left.

Kyle watched him leave, gripping his other arm that was burning too. It burned and bled too, as he watched Stan walk away.

thank you all for reading!! make sure to let me know what you thought and such!! love y’all!


	5. You Feel Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What makes a home? A bed? A stove? Someone who loves you?

didn't intend to make this so winter-y but i regret no such thing babeyyy

**You Feel Like Home**

Stan looked around the empty apartment. So this is their new place now. With worried eyes, he looked at the pile of boxes and flower pots that Kyle dragged up. He came up shortly after, struggling to drag a mattress into their new apartment. 

“Is this all?” he panted, sitting on the plastic-covered mattress. He realized there was almost nothing in the new place. There was some furniture in the kitchen but what they didn't bring from their old places, they didn't have. 

After two years of living on campus or with their friends, both friends decided to get their own place. Close to university, just a little apartment for them both. They didn't even count the boxes they brought up, they took up about half of the main room. There were two other little rooms, their bedrooms. And a kitchen. All very small. Living together seemed like a good idea though. Best friends since middle school, throughout high school, even in university though they attended different ones. They felt like there was nothing that could come in between them. Well, Stan was a little worried, as every time Kyle would look at him a little too long, his heart would skip a beat. Or at least he thought that's what's up, he could have an arrhythmia. 

“I think it's all for today,” he sighed, sitting next to Kyle. They've got all their belongings and a mattress. That's it. Stan wasn't sure whether the other things from his old place would arrive too. “Dude, we've got more plants than furniture,” he laughed, looking at the potted plants and what he'd call teenager trees, all laid out by the wall. The trees weren't big but tall enough to remind him he'll be living in a jungle.

“To be fair, we've got a mattress.”

“There's also like a fridge in the kitchen.”

“I guess that's a win.” Kyle stood up, ready to position his precious flowers properly. So they'd get enough light or little light, or be in the correct position according to the yin-yang of flowers. At least Stan thought that's how they worked. He had a few but they all died. 

“Wow, I already feel like I'm in a rainforest.”

“You know I need them for school,” Kyle whined, looking at his friend with a tired look. Sometimes, he thought that having a kid was less trouble than a house full of plants. Well, a house full of kids would be pretty bothersome too. Stan knew being a botanist was no fun. Sure, it's Kyle's life aspiration but flowers can't tell you what's wrong with them. He studied engineering, at least a machine can break down. Or blow up. 

Stan stood up, wanting to help too. There wasn't much to do with all their stuff though, they had nowhere to put it. “You brought your console?” he asked Kyle, digging through a box of cables and neatly organized video games. 

“Yeah, you want to play tonight?”

“Dude, we don't have a TV.”

“Shit, right,” he sighed, carefully placing the last few flowers on the window parapet. Stan didn't know what they were called, he just knew they had fuzzy leaves and he wasn't allowed to water them. What was there really left to do today?

Stan dug through the other boxes, trying to set up the internet in the apartment. Bad idea, that should be the last thing he should do. But at least it's something he can figure out. 

He came across a huge blanket and some bedding, throwing it on the now uncovered mattress. He realized that other than that, there was no place to sleep. They'd have to share a 'bed' until they figure their apartment out. 

*

  
“At least we're doing something.” Kyle carried a shopping basket in his hand, wondering if the handle's going to rip off under all that weight. He had to grip it with both hands, not expecting to carry that much. 

“What do we have?” Stan asked, almost yelling from the opposite side of the store, making his way to the candy bars. 

“Literally nothing a sensible adult would buy,” Kyle scanned the shopping basket, basically finding just sweets, chips and a few bottles of beer. It will get them through the night. Before he could say anything else, Stan was back, dropping broccoli into the basket.

“Dude.”

“What? I like broccoli in my salad.”

“A salad. With broccoli and...” Kyle paused, digging through the basket. “...And gummy bears?”

Stan sighed, realizing they can't live off chips, energy drinks and the occasional warm meal like when they were teenagers. “Guess I'll have to redo my eating habits, huh?”

*

  
“So this is it.” Stan brought the, now cold, beer bottles back into what will be the living room. He sat next to his friend on the mattress, He stepped over the little table lamp they set up near the 'bed', pulling a blanket over their shoulders. 

“We literally haven't started anything and I'm already tired of furnishing this place.”

“I guess we could get used to sleeping in the middle of the living room.”

“What color do you want to paint your room?” Stan looked around the blindingly white room. He felt like he was in a hospital. He wasn't sure what color he wanted his room to be either. Green? Grey? Blue? What shade, baby blue? Navy blue? He couldn't remember more shades. He didn't even like blue. “Hm?” he looked at his friend who still wasn't responding. 

“Oh, sorry,” Kyle shook his head, waking up from his mini nap. “Still trying to pull myself together from last night.”

“I couldn't have been that bad.”

“You kick like you're in Mortal Kombat when you're sleeping.” 

“What if there's a boogeyman around?”

“If someone asks me about the bruises, I'll say you beat me.”

“I'll beat you with my love,” Stan growled, hanging himself around Kyle's neck. 

*

  
Both friends walked around the furniture store, barely dragging themselves through the never-ending aisles. They felt like they were walking in circles, the design of the store forced them to walk through every possible layout of a living room, kitchen, bathroom, hallway, closet and sink they could think of. All they were looking for were some God-damned bedframes. And a mattress, for the start. Good news was, they were only mistaken for newlyweds like nine times.

“Dude, I'm so tired,” Stan groaned, sitting on the nearest bed. It was soft, a little spring. He could imagine waking up here, he thought as he jumped up and down a little bit. Falling asleep in a real bed after like a week would be great too. And maybe even falling asleep here with Kyle.

He couldn't help it. He could manage his thoughts a week before but waking up every morning, somehow tangled up with his best friend wasn't helping. He wasn't even sure if it was a real thing he was feeling. Now he knew, though he tried to deny it. He wasn't feeling anything for Kyle, no. He was just so touch-deprived and haven't had a real relationship for such a long time, that's it, he just latched onto the first thing. He wasn't actually falling for him. He'd feel that way about anyone if he woke up in their arms four days out of seven. 

But his mind traced back to what it would be like, waking up on a lazy Saturday morning, next to him. And he could almost feel the soft covers and warm sun before he was brought back by the bed sinking a little beside him. He looked, seeing Kyle sitting there. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just so tired of this. Do we even need beds?” 

“We sleep on my old mattress on the floor.”

“Well, it's a minimalist design. That's in right now, no?”

Kyle chuckled, jumping up and down on the bed too. He wondered if everyone did that when they sat on a bed. “It is but honestly, I kinda miss sitting on a real bed. And not getting kicked in the shin every other night. That too. You can't even fall off that mattress. Where's the danger, man?”

Both friends left the store, with no bed frame but each with a stuffed toy in their hands. There were a few good ones but they both quickly realized they have to paint the rooms first and there's no place for more boxes at the moment. There's still place for a stuffed polar bear and a shark, though. This furnishing process is taking way longer than they thought. 

Kyle suggested they do the painting themselves. It seemed like a good idea until they realized how long it takes and how much work it actually is. A penetrating layer, taping all the edges, painting enough coats to make it look opaque. And they'll have to do two rooms. But, being the frugal college students they were, both were up for the challenge.

*

Their studies were taking up way more time than they anticipated. Thankfully, Winter break was just around the corner. Stan opened his eyes into the new morning, looking at the window that spread across the wall, opposite to them. He didn't believe it at first but after a while, he realized it was snowing heavily. Excited like a little kid, he tried to sit up and go look outside, but something was holding him down. 

Someone was holding him down. He woke up as the little spoon again, feeling Kyle's arm tightly wrapped around his torso. As much as he tried to stop it, he felt his cheeks get red. It's because the heating is cranked up too high. Of course, it is. As gently as he could, he unwrapped his friend's hand from him, quietly making his way to the window. On his way, he passed a mirror, catching a glimpse of his painted tee. It was originally white, but Kyle had a little too much fun when they painted his room, leaving olive green handprints all over his shirt. He could get a new one, but the memories from the last few nights were too precious. He liked the handprints.

Kyle's room was all done, it just needed to dry. Then they'll move all the stuff from Stan's room to the other one and start working on his room. He still wasn't completely sure of the color though. Something fitting for an engineer, he guessed. 

Stan opened the window, shoveling the snow from the bottom still together, forming a snowball. With no hesitation, he turned around and threw the ball at his sleeping friend who was suddenly wide awake, wiping snow from his chest. He gave Stan a nasty look before realizing he'd do the same. “You could've thought of a better way to wake me up.” Stan's heart skipped a beat when he saw   
Kyle's grin. He could, but he wasn't sure he'd like that. 

*

  
Stan was making his way home from his internship. A company that worked closely with his university offered him a paid internship and even though the hours were late, he was glad to have something on the side. He watched as his shoes picked up the fresh snow, immersing himself in the winter fairytale. His cheeks were getting pinched by the cold, thankfully Kyle made him take his gloves and scarf, knowing Stan wouldn't do it on his own. Ever. The scarf smelled like Kyle's perfume. He wondered if he knew that. 

Coming to their own little home always filled Stan with joy. It's been maybe a month, maybe a little longer since they've been living together. Slowly but surely, their space was taking after them. Kyle brought even more plants, for schoolwork. There was always some device taken apart on the kitchen table and floors, surrounded by papers, that was Stan's schoolwork. They even brought a TV in, just so they could play video games together. The rooms were taking so much time though, currently, they used them as storage rooms. Not that he was complaining. Stan got pretty used to their sleeping situation. 

Stan unlocked the front door, almost getting knocked out by the strong smell of fresh cookies and vanilla. He looked around the dimly lit apartment, noticing Christmas lights hung around the evergreens Kyle brought from school. He kicked off his shoes, peeking into the kitchen to find Kyle in his own little world. He didn't hear him arrive over the Christmas music, dancing and cutting out little snowmen from the fresh dough. Stan approached him quietly, placing his bags of groceries on the table. 

“Oh, you're home!” he saw a sweet smile spread across Kyle's face when he noticed his flatmate, he set down his spatula and took a sip from his favorite mug. It was a mug from Stan, it had little kittens on it. He took it upon himself to unwrap his scarf from Stan and unbutton his jacket. 

“I got you a salad,” Stan giggled, handing his friend a big box from his favorite place. He got himself one too. Ever since there have been no bad influences on him, Kyle's veggie obsession jumped on him too. He knew his exact order, he knew to ask for extra arugula and peppers also. Just to see Kyle's face light up like a little kid. Just for some veggies.

He thanked him and went in for a hug, slipping his hands under Stan's coat that was still on. He was taken by surprise. Sure, sometimes Kyle would give him a little side hug, or a short one or whatever but this one just felt different. He never felt him this close, his face buried in his sweater. It lasted a second too short for him though, he didn't get the chance to take it all in. 

Kyle reached for his mug again, offering some to Stan too. “Dude, is this eggnog?”

“Yup.”

“Homemade?”

“Homemade as fuck.”

“Oh you sweet soul, you're tipsy off of eggnog.”

“Well it's Christmas in a while, isn't it?”

“You don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“I know, but what if my plants do?”

“I see you dressed up the trees as well,” Stan finally took off his coat, looking behind him at the trees. Obviously excited to talk about the plants for a bit, Kyle grabbed his arm and decided to give him a little tour. 

“And they gave me a white cedar shrub. I don't know why, man. I'm just taking care of it until they ask for it back,” Kyle whined, rearranging the lights on the evergreen. “Oh, you little funky prostitute tree.” Stan couldn't believe his friend managed to put lights and even decorations on those tiny trees. Well, they won't have a big one anyways this year. They agreed on no presents either.

Both friends ended up sitting on the mattress, separated only by a plate of fresh cookies. Stan asked Kyle if he hadn't had enough eggnog already but he argued that he didn't waste six eggs and a whole stick of butter for his drink to go bad. Stan wondered if he was really going to drink the whole bottle he mixed. He hoped not, seeing Kyle stumble into the living room. “So, dude, what did you like d-do... do in work today,” he hiccuped mid-sentence. 

“I don't have the energy or the crayons to explain that to you,” Stan groaned, burying his head in the pillows because Kyle just wouldn't stop talking. It's been an hour and four cups later and he still wouldn't shut up. That was, until he did. His friend looked at him suspiciously, taken back by the sudden silence. He looked so pale, staring at the ground before he abruptly stood up, almost falling on his run to the bathroom. 

With a deep sigh, Stan stood up to get his friend some water. This is going to be a long night, he knew. He knocked on the bathroom door, seeing his friend hugging the toilet. A wave of regret and worry washed over him as he sat on the bathtub beside Kyle, stroking his back. “And this, baby, is why we don't let you drink.”

“Why?”

“Because you can't handle anything.”

Kyle whined in response, gladly taking the water from his flatmate. “I can!”

“And then you mix it all with a salad and raw dough.”

“Shh,” Kyle whispered, stretching his hand to put a finger on Stan's lips who tried to bite it jokingly but his hand was so shaky, he couldn't. Kyle still couldn't sit straight without feeling absolutely nauseous, he found comfort in lying on Stan's thighs. The only good part was him taking care of his drunk friend. It's been that way since high school. Stan was always there to stroke his hair and rub his back while he spent the night on the bathroom floor. Funnily enough, Kyle never learned his lesson. He rested his forehead on Stan's leg. “Dude, I like... I love you.”

Stan's stomach clenched, his hand stopped midway through Kyle's hair. He knew he didn't mean it in... in that way “Yeah, yeah me too.”

“You're so lame.”

“Why?”

“You said you loved me,” Kyle sang with a grin, poking his finger into Stan's knee. 

“You said it first, you absolute staircase.”

“Putting absolute in front of a noun doesn't make it an insult, you absolute brick wall... Okay, I'm sorry I called you lame.”

“Thanks.”

“I thought you already knew,” Kyle laughed, sliding on the floor when he felt a slight kick from Stan. He heard him say he seems sober enough and helped him stand up, guiding him to the bed. Kyle didn't know what came over him, he stopped mid-way to pull Stan into a hug. He hit his chest with a thud, surprised by Kyle's actions. He could only whisper ‘dude’ before Kyle started assuring him he really does love him. And that he's really lucky to have him. “I'm drunk, wow,” Kyle chuckled. “Also. I ordered those woodedn- wooden bed frames. I'm going to miss you kicking me every night.”

Stan couldn't hide the most bitter smile. Deep inside, he knew how he meant those things. He knew they didn't mean anything serious, it was the alcohol talking. He knew he just appreciated him as a friend. They were best friends, after all. Just best friends. 

*

  
Kyle packed his things, put on his coat. He wanted to leave the classroom as quickly as he could. He couldn't comprehend how much of a bad day he had. Every class he had just brought his mood lower. It was simply a bad day from the start. He woke up, alone, spilled his coffee, missed the bus, forgot about a test. It all came together as the shittiest day. The last straw for him was slipping on ice near the bus stop, missing his bus home too. 

He didn't have the patience to wait for another one, Kyle took matters into his own hands, walking home. He wondered whether he should cry now or when he gets home. Home. 

Home.

He had his own home now. It's warm and it's welcoming. It's a place where he can be himself. Play video games with his flatmate. Or tend to his indoor garden. He made his own home with Stan. 

Stan.

The thought of him made Kyle's heart flutter. He stopped. He didn't notice the butterflies in his stomach when he thought of him until... until now. He started to forget about his bad day. He was wearing his scarf, the one he gave Stan every day, almost. He wore it so often, it smelled like him now. Kyle never noticed. It made him feel warm inside. Speak of the devil, he thought when his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Stan, telling him dinner's ready. 

Kyle pictured Stan's smile. When he cooked. Or when they talked. It was a pretty smile, he liked to see him smile. He liked to be the reason to see him smile. Or to hear him laugh. He loved to listen when Stan spoke about his work. Or school. About his latest projects. Even his messy calculations and drawings. 

He suddenly wished to be next to him. To hug him. To have him near, to pull him close. He wished so badly to be home right now.

Home with Stan. He feels like home.

*

“Dude, I can't believe it's almost another year.” Stan looked at the clock. Eleven PM. Just one more hour and it's the next year. Time ran so fast when they were juggling their new home, school, and work. Both rooms were now finished and their flat was slowly starting to look like... well, a flat. They bought bigger blankets and bigger pillows. The bedframes or mattresses haven't arrived yet. They were slowly getting everything to function like regular adults.

“Do we even have anything to celebrate the New Year's eve with?” 

Stan took it upon himself to find a bottle somewhere in the kitchen. As well as he looked, he could only find a single one. “We have the strawberry wine your mom brought,” he yelled back, looking at the dusty bottle. Blech. He hated wine. Kyle hated wine too. But it was the only thing they found, the stores were closed already. Better than nothing. They could go out with their friends, but Stan found their old high school playlist. It dated back to their freshmen years. That was a great excuse, they were having a throwback night. In reality, they just wanted to spend the night together. They enjoyed each other's company, maybe even a little more than before. 

Stan failed to notice. But there were more long, tender touches. More little looks. More silly jokes and little smiles. More blushing, more heart flutters. If one were to count all the butterflies in their stomachs, you could fill up a garden. Kyle didn't want to push it further. Stan didn't have the guts to even think about it. 

They clinked their glasses together, skipping over a few songs. Stan accidentally poured in more than he was supposed to, almost filling up the glasses to the top. “Dude, I don't know how much wine you are supposed to drink.”

“Well, not the whole bottle in two pours, that's for sure.”

They came across one of their songs. Kyle couldn't stay sitting down, he put his half-empty glass on the table and broke out into a solo. It was so nice, all the memories that came with the song. All their years of friendship and also hardships. They've been through so much together. Good and bad, funny and sad. Fights and nights out. Lost in the city, late for a train. Skipping school, preparing for dates. Wins, losses. First kisses, first heartbreaks, first everything. He almost didn't believe he went through all of this with Kyle. All the moments that shaped him into who he is. And all the moments that shaped Kyle. They shared it all.

“Dude, you okay?” Kyle stopped, grabbing Stan by his face. He looked like he was going to cry that very moment. But he just shook his head, giving him the sweetest smile. He couldn't explain. 

“I'm good, man.”

“Come on. It's... oh shit, it's our song!” Kyle beamed as he skipped over a few songs, landing on the specific one. He grabbed Stan's hands, pulling him up to dance a little. They didn't even notice it was coming close to midnight. It didn't take long for Stan to get into it, soon they were yelling the words into each other's faces, wondering whether the neighbors will complain. 

Stan put his arms around his friend's shoulders, swaying them both into the rhythm. Even after the years, he still remembered every note of the song. 

They were both taken out of the moment by the loud bangs outside. And then some more. They looked outside, seeing fireworks in the sky. Both friends were mesmerized like little kids. By all the colors and sparkles. 

“God, I kinda wish I had someone for a New Year's kiss.”

“Well, you should kiss someone.”

“There's no one to kiss.”

“I mean, there's me,” Kyle stated, tearing his eyes away from the fireworks, looking back at Stan. He noticed his arms were still around his neck, he held his sides now. Stan was taken back but not for long. He really was there to kiss.

So he kissed him.

*

“Dude, you still haven't stopped kicking like mad,” Kyle whined, pulling Stan even closer. He was glad that once the bedframes arrived, they put them next to each other in one room. It felt like the best idea since they've started living together.

Stan rolled around, pecking his boyfriend on the cheek. There was nowhere to rush, nowhere to go. It was a lazy Sunday. It was better than he could ever imagine. He never knew that holding him in his arms could feel so right. So warm. 

It felt like home.

He felt like home.

  


Thank you all for reading!! Be sure to let me know what you thought/might want to see next! Have a wonderful day!!


	6. The Sun and The Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, The Sun loves The Moon. And sometimes The Moon loves The Sun.

** The Sun and The Moon **

The Earth was created. He was one of  the first architects, making sure the world goes round, spinning and growing. They were made to assure all problems will get fixed and all life runs smoothly. He was one of the few. He was The Moon.

The Moon was a new being, introduced to the world. They were all born from different elements and essences. He had never seen the other ones, from the moment he opened his eyes, he was in his own hall. He was told he was made out of mystery and wind and dreams. The Moon didn't know what it meant, but he could feel the soft breeze blowing a little around him always. It chilled his skin and he felt his hair feather around his face. It was comfortable, something familiar, even though he's just been created.

He had a job. The Moon's job was to bring the night to the people beneath him. His first day, he entered his chamber, dark and cold. The Moon found a note sitting on his chair, an enormous chair with curved armrests, covered in silk. His hand ran over the material, forgetting about the note for a second. His eyes were indulging themselves in the ethereal place that was now his home.

He was told he'd bring the night to people. And with him would come the dark and the cold. He’d bring sleep and sleeplessness. He’d bring the stars and the dreams. He'd bring fog and headlights shining in the velvet dark. 

Reluctantly, he sat down behind the complicated looking panel, sitting just below a window that let him see the world. He ran his fingers across the buttons and switches, a little unsure of what they're for. They told him he'd figure it out, that it was his natural instinct to create the night accordingly. The paper informed him this was to control the night. He had the world in his hands during the night. Some parts, that's it. He controlled the weather at night and he controlled the dark, the magic, and sleepiness, he controlled the night lights and he could sprinkle in some essence. They were neatly stored in tiny bottles above his head. The Moon took one, twisting it in his hands carefully. ‘Sadness’ read the tiny paper attached to its cork. The blue dust sifted from one side to another as he inspected it from all sides. Other bottles had slightly different colors, ranging from black to navy to baby blue to white. Happiness, fear, anger, tenderness, excitement, love, trust, loathing, grief, ecstasy and so much more. He has yet to try them all. Just a little sprinkle, he was warned. You'll need just a little sprinkle over the world to mold it as you wish. Just open the window in front of you, or go to the balcony. Let the stars guide you, help you. Listen to them, listen to the dark too. Take its advice. You'll become friends.

They’ll be watching you, the paper read. They'll be looking up, pointing at you, saying how beautiful you are. They'll bask in your moonlight, sharing their most intimate moments. They’ll be writing stories about you, they'll be wiping tears, happy or sad, and laughing, all of that is your power. They'll look up at the night sky and talk about their silliest dreams and deepest fears, gather the nerve to confess, they’ll kiss and hug, they’ll have courage and freedom, all under your veil of darkness and beauty. Sometimes they'll be scared, they'll be crying or yelling. It's okay. It's in their nature. The Moon had a special power. He could bring the deepest secrets and desires out from the depths of being forgotten. He was ecstatic to try it out.

He continued reading the paper. You’ll be switching with The Sun to rest.

The Sun?

Who’s The Sun?

The Moon looked around, noticing the night's ending. That was his first night, his first art piece. The glass under his feet showed the night getting lighter and lighter, eventually turning from the darkest black that hugged you the whole night into a lighter hue, the promise of a new day. He turned around, following the twinkling light of yellow and orange.

He had never seen anything like that. 

He saw The Sun.

He couldn't see The Sun clearly. He was too bright and luminous for him to see anything clear yet. The Sun wasn't too far, but he was just rising from the horizon. He could see the whole world waking up, a sudden wave of dizziness fell over him, closing his eyes to go sleep. But he didn't want to close his eyes, he didn't want to ever stop looking at The Sun. 

The Moon couldn't tell what his hair looked like but some strands glistened in tones of orange and red and gold, reflecting the chamber's lights, just like he did. His skin was golden and warm, he could feel himself getting warm just by looking at him. His hands weren't cold anymore. The Sun rose some more, his eyes fixated on a similar paper such as his own. He smiled, dimples appearing on his rosy cheeks, his smile sweet as honey. The Moon felt like he'd melt. 

He wondered what The Sun was made out of. Maybe peace and morning dew. He tried to study The Sun as close as he could, without his eyes hurting too much. He was shining so bright. The Sun had freckles, on his face and on his arms. They created wonderful patterns on his skin. The Moon wanted to come closer, introduce himself but the glass windows didn't let him. He tried to push on the windows, making them budge but couldn't move them an inch. His hand stayed on the glass unwillingly, feeling as the glass got warmer and warmer with The Sun rising. 

The Sun looked so warm. So friendly and open, you could feel his warmth consuming him. He wished The Sun would look his way, he wished so badly to give him a smile and to see The Sun smile at him. He knew he’d have the most heartwarming smile.

The Moon had never seen anyone as beautiful as The Sun.

*

The Earth was created. The Sun arose, waking up in a strange sunny room. He had been created and molded into this form, given the job of bringing the day to people. To bring light and warmth and life. 

The Sun felt something drip down his fingers, morning dew. He had just woken up, little droplets of chilly water forming on his hands and cheeks. He felt it drip down his neck but soon enough he was dry. He was The Sun, after all. His cheeks were getting redder and redder with the warmth he felt, always around him. 

He looked around the room, feeling like he's home even though he had just arrived. It felt awfully familiar, The Sun felt like he knew almost every detail of the room. Leaves and branches bumped into his head, growing from the ceiling and the walls, filling his chamber. He could grab a fresh orange if he wanted, fruit and flowers growing everywhere he looked. The glass floors were giving him a view of the world beneath him, he could see his work from there.

The Sun arrived at his control desk, careful not to touch any button or lever, sitting in the satin chair. It felt so cold against his warm skin, he appreciated the change. Someone had left him a paper, he curiously read the instructions. But somehow he felt like he already knew all of it.

But his curiosity got the best of him, his fingers reached over to the colorful buttons and pushed the yellow one, the sky instantly glowing brighter. He saw it beneath his feet, through the glass floors. He wanted to try out all the buttons but they were missing something. The whole world was missing some shade and as hard as he tried to find out more about that in his papers, it didn't mention anything. 

The Sun had one faint memory, from just before he woke up. He remembered being told he's made of fire and joy and haze. He was told he'd bring life and warmth, that he was a crucial part of every life on the Earth. He gave life. He made the world feel warm and sunny and cheerful and lively. They won't be able to look at you for long, said the voice. The Sun was saddened, he wanted the world to look up and point at him, saying, that's our star, that's our darling Sun. He wanted them to look up and be reminded they're loved by The Sun, that The Sun's here to shine and love and take care of and embrace the world. 

But the voice assured him, it's because you're too bright. Blazing and dazzling, so luminous, they couldn't bear to look at you for so long. So beautiful. And The Sun felt his own cheeks getting rosy, forgetting his own warm aura. 

The voice told him he was the signal of a new day, of a new beginning. After a long, cold night he was there, to give the world new hope. He was there to wash their worries away, to scare away the monsters of the night. But sometimes, he was there to remind people of the night before. He was there to remind them of their reckless decisions, confessions, words said in the heat of the moment, kisses given in the dark of the evening. It was there to remind them those elements and their demons are still there, not hidden under the satin covers of the night. 

He was their star, savior, and protector. No matter how intensely he burned, they wanted him to come back, no matter the season. The world would raise its arms up to him, asking him for gifts and life and help.

The Sun read the final words of the letter, pushing more buttons to see what'd happen. The wold changed colors and temperatures, it changed from a singing oasis to a lazy afternoon.

You'll be switching with The Moon to rest, the letter read.

The Moon?

Who's The Moon?

The Sun felt a sudden breeze on his cheeks, cold wind blowing from his right. He never noticed a window sitting there, obstructed by the rich flora growing in his chamber. He pushed the plants out of his way, following the river of darkness across the sky.

There, he saw The Moon.

He felt like his breath was knocked out of his lungs, the moment he looked at him. The Moon's chamber was dark, only illuminated by a few pale lanterns but he could still see him well enough. His dark hair, every hair in place, shone in the light, contrasting with his ivory skin. He was far enough but he could still imagine it feels cold to the touch, The Sun had a sudden urge to run his hands all over him, to embrace him and pull him closer, to warm The Moon up. He was reading the same paper like The Sun, sitting in his own silken chair. 

He shifted in his chair, his shirt moving a little from his chest. It was silken, just like his chair, white and glistening, he had the first few buttons undone. The fabric hung on every inch of him perfectly, he looked so delicate but celestial, almost like he'd disappear in a cloud of smoke if someone caressed him with intentions other than love and care and tenderness.

If The Sun could see clearly, he had little moles in his chest and hands. They were all connected, creating constellations and patterns on his skin, just like the stars. He wasn't sure what came first, the shapes on his skin or stars themselves.

The Sun's eyes were closing, feeling it's time to switch with The Moon to take care of the world beneath them. But he didn't want to leave, not without catching his glimpse, not before The Moon notices him. He felt like The Moon is his gust of fresh air, finally filling his lungs with the dear heaven and blessing him with his glory.

He knew he'd never see anyone as captivating as The Moon. 

*

The Moon hasn't decided what this night's essence will be. He used his powders sparingly, but tonight felt like sprinkling a little sadness over the world. The day looked so beautiful, he wanted to keep the balance. The day was truly beautiful, The Sun was an artist. It was his favorite part of going to sleep, seeing the sunrise. But it was their collective work. He slowly let the world go brighter, giving The Sun space to work his magic. He laid down each morning, watching the world beneath change colors, from blue to orange, to shades of yellow he could only dream of. He didn't know how The Sun did it.

He reached for the bottle labeled ‘Sadness’, but before he could bring it down, a flickering light directed his attention elsewhere. 

A bottle near his window, a huge bottle was sitting down, its content glowing in the dark chamber with golden lights. The Moon knelt down, inspecting the strange object. The bottle had a little note on top, wrapped close with thin twine. He read it quickly, curious to see what it is.

The Moon felt his heart start to melt, seeing The Sun's signature. He still hasn't been able to catch him all this time but this bottle still found its way in. That means The Sun sees him, acknowledges him. Cares about him, dare he say. He set the note aside but he'd sure keep it nearby. He opened the bottle, letting its content fly out freely. The flickering lights of golden and yellow and white dispersed all over his chamber, creating an immaculate sight worth of heaven. The Sun named them fireflies, hoping they'd carry an essence of the day into his dark night. 

The Moon couldn't take his eyes off of them. They felt like a part of The Sun himself, a few of them sat on his shirt. Their tiny bodies shone through his blanket of the dark, illuminating anything and everything. As hard as it was to take his eyes off of the sight, he decided he couldn't keep this for himself. If it made his heart race and made him forget about sprinkling sadness over the world, the world deserved to see them. It was very difficult for The Moon, he wanted to keep them all to himself, little twinkles of electricity. 

The Moon opened one of his windows, letting the fireflies fly free. He hated seeing them go but the world deserved to see the beauty. They all flew, except one. It stays sitting on his shirt, right above his heart. It feels warm, like a little bit of The Sun is with him. And it is. The Sun made them, created them, molded them, for him. So he'd always have a little bit of The Sun near him, even if they're always missing out on each other's glances and smiles.

The Sun cares. 

That night The Moon lay awake, not even the sunrise colorshow beneath him putting him to sleep. He wondered if the world could still see him up in the sky. It happens sometimes, he heard. When he's up late or if he wants to watch the sunrise, you can see both, The Moon and The Sun. He wondered how it looked from down below. 

But The Sun's gift was still on his mind, his stomach tying a happy knot each time he saw that one lighting bug fly around. He wondered, how did The Sun make them? What did he create them out of? He found he could make clouds, just out of nothing. He wondered if The Sun would like his clouds.

The Moon rubbed his index fingers together until they felt cold and wet and a little tingly. He pulled his hands away, seeing a little fluff of white floating in front of him. It wasn't bigger than a marble, hovering above his thighs. But as small as it was, he still felt the cold emitting from this little froth, even despite being covered in blankets. 

He cupped the cloud in his hand, seeing droplets in his palm. It felt like he was holding nothing but at the same time, felt the cloud stroke and tickle his hand. He twisted it between his hands, watching it get bigger and bigger, the more he molded it with his palms. The cloud was now as big as a head but still flew effortlessly in the air. Sometimes, he wished he could be like the clouds he made. So light and airy, delicate, floating through the air letting the wind chose your destination.

He had never seen the clouds during the day. The Moon wondered if The Sun would like them. Sometimes, he let them out during the night but they were always so small and flowy, it almost looked like nothing. Maybe during the day, they'd gain on size and create beautiful paintings in the sky. He saw the people sometimes look up and point at his clouds, saying they looked like people or dogs or hearts. He always found it so amusing, molding and carving the clouds as he wanted and then letting them fly outside, pushing them out of his window. And then leaning out and listening to people guess, look at their ever-changing shapes. And if he felt mischievous, he'd send out the clouds sprinkled with a little bit of ‘Fright’ essence. The world seemed like an awfully different place when he did, good and bad happening down below. 

He blew into his cloud, pulled its sides to shape it how he'd like. A little froth here, a little pull there and some more fluff here. The Moon held it in his hands, careful not to crush it. Its coldness stung his cheeks and hands but he enjoyed it. He walked over to his window, the one from which he could see The Sun. The Sun was just waking up, he accidentally caught him at this private moment. But he wanted to send him a gift too, opening the window and sending the cloud out but not before sprinkling a bit of ‘Serenity’ and ‘Comfort’ on top. he knew The Sun would recognize his gift. 

If The Sun wanted, he could send the cloud into the world. It'd take it its own way, getting bigger and bigger, dividing, casting a shadow on the world. A little bit of the night during the day. But he was a little worried The Sun would maybe get cold or wet holding his cloud. A little part of him wished The Sun would keep it just to himself. 

He wanted The Sun to know The Moon cared too. 

*

The Sun sat in his chair, fiddling with the Earth's temperature. It felt like a whole new world now that he found the cloud outside his window. He could mold the world into his liking, always trying to find the perfect atmosphere. For spring and for autumn, but he still kept the original cloud with him. Always.

Even though it made him feel a little cold at times, it still warmed his heart. It was nice to cool himself down from time to time, to feel the slight breeze on his ever-rosy cheeks and burning hands. When he went to sleep, sometimes he'd lay his head on it, the cloud surprisingly keeping its shape and form. It felt like laying in heaven itself, the cloud caressing his face. Sometimes, he'd wish it was The Moon instead. 

It was time for him to go to sleep and The Moon to take over. But he wasn't tired just yet, moving himself to the window from which he saw the night. When he couldn't sleep, he'd look at the stars and city lights, not being able to tear his eyes away from the twinkling spots. The sea of lights always looked so enticing to him. He'd open the window and take in the night air, being able to differentiate between the essences. ‘Joy’ smelled like summer nights, warm and earthy. ‘Melancholy’ would be sharp and a little sweet and dry. Tonight he smelled something new. It was almost floral, very soft and tender. 

It was ‘Love’.

Hadn't it been for the shining light that caught his attention, he'd still be basking in The Moon's essence. The Sun looked down below, seeing a ball of light fly just beneath him. It left below a tray of light and stardust, glistening beautifully in the night. He had heard of those, from the Earth. It was a shooting star, he was supposed to make a wish. As silly as it sounded, it was a very sweet tradition. What should he wish for?

Something moved in The Moon's chambers, snapping The Sun back from his daydreaming. He looked up, seeing a figure standing near the chamber's window looking straight at him. He felt his stomach shrink looking at The Moon, slightly illuminated by his lanterns and... and The Sun's firefly. It sat on his silken shirt, casting a yellow glow around it, sitting just above his heart. It shone much brighter than the other ones, setting it aside from the rest. The Sun knew it was the first one he had made. He cupped his hands together and at that moment, he thought of The Moon. He felt something buzzing in his hands, he opened them and out flew a lightning bug. It was one of the prettiest things he had seen. And now it was embellishing The Moon and the night.

He looked at The Moon, looking right back at him. The time seemed like it stopped, The Sun thinking about a thousand and zero things at once. He didn't even realize as a smile spread across his face, seeing his gift and his other half. He tried to calm down his heart but he was too excited to finally lock eyes with The Moon.

He smiled back at him too, The Sun seeing the most charming smile. He had seen a few humans in his time but this was The Moon, giving this smile to him and just him. The Sun cursed that their chambers were so far away, wanting to reach out to The Moon. Sheepishly, he raised his hand, giving The Moon a little wave, saying hello. The Moon did the same, not hiding a little laugh that he just couldn't keep in. 

The Sun was too lost in his beauty, he had seen him a couple of times but now, it felt different. Maybe it was his smile, maybe it was his look, maybe it was the twinkle in his eye. Even though he was far away, he could bet that he had the whole universe in his eyes. His eyes smiled too when he smiled. The constellations on his chest glowed a little brighter than usual and The Sun liked to think it was because of him. 

He wasn't sure what he felt but it was nothing short of starstruck. Devine and heavenly, he almost thought he saw an angel. But it lasted short, too short for his liking. His flame had turned away, attending to the night. His heart sunk a little but he soon found himself back in his chair, smiling widely for no reason. He felt like a teenager, he had seen them down on the Earth, smiling to himself quietly after seeing The Moon. He has seen teenagers experience first loves, passion, smiles, and tears, heartbreak, saying ‘I love you’ and ‘It's over’. Sure, it was sad at times, bitter, seeing their heartbreak and regret but he also found it beautiful. Experiencing it for the first time, your heart pure and unmarked, unscratched. He felt like that too, The Moon's smile burned in his memory like a song he couldn't get out of his head. The butterflies in his stomach flew around, or so he thought before he felt something land on his hands. Tens of butterflies, straight out of their cocoons that they had on The Sun's trees. They sat on his hands and shoulders, sticking out their tongues as if they were looking for a flower. The Sun put them on the nearest tree, watching them search for sweet nectar. He wondered if a single smile could hatch tens and hundreds of butterflies, what could love do with him? And with the world?

*

The Moon couldn't help glancing at the window. He had been working the whole night but all he wanted was to see The Sun again. The night was all set up, his little firefly flying from one hand to the other one, sitting on his fingers. He felt like the night needed some more wind, pressing the button on his far left but it wouldn't budge. Confused, he tried the other buttons. None of them worked but before he could stand up, a paper flew right down onto his panel board. It was the same handwriting like on the paper he received when he woke up for the first time. 

After scanning its content, he turned around, seeing a door appear, just as the paper said. It felt like a rock on his chest, unsure of what's on the other side. Just now he realized he had never left the chamber. He didn't know the way out, after all. What was waiting on the other side?

The Moon looked out from his window, checking up on the world underneath him that was in his hands for the night. The lights stopped twinkling and the water didn't run, all standing in one place. The world has stopped. The Moon was confused but hoped the paper was right, assuring him that this happens sometimes. To fix all the little errors and give the architects some time to unwind. He guessed if he wanted, he could've left for some time before. He wondered if there'd ever be another Moon, someone to take his place.

The Moon debated whether he should walk through the door or not. The decision was made easy, as soon as his firefly flew up, sitting on the handle. 

He opened them slowly, peeking behind them just to see a long curved hallway with glass ceilings and floors, similar to his own chamber. He could see the night sky all around him, a wave of comfort and calmness washing over him. He followed the road of lanterns and shrubs lining the passage, the familiar wind slowly stopping. The night sky underneath his feet was beginning to light up but when he looked back, it stayed velvet black. The air was getting warmer and The Moon felt a familiar knot in his stomach, just like the one he felt when he finally saw The Sun. 

With great anticipation, he followed the path before looking up, finally seeing him. The Sun. He was following the same path as The Moon, finally seeing him too. As much as he wanted to run towards him to grab him close and never let go, he grabbed his hands behind his back and slowly made his way towards him. He didn't want to seem too fidgety, too nervous, too eager. He wanted their first encounter to be perfect, perfect as it could be. 

The air was getting warmer and warmer the closer he got to The Sun, not being able to hide the smile on his face. The Sun couldn't either, looking away a few times. The hall seemed never-ending, the other person still too far. 

His smile grew into an even bigger one, The Sun at arm's reach now. They stopped, taking a moment to finally realize they're now together. He couldn't believe it was really The Sun, but the dreamy smile couldn't belong to anyone else. The Sun was the first one to stick out his hand, introducing himself. “I'm The Sun.” He knew The Moon was familiar with him but it felt right. It felt right when The Moon took his hand, he felt cold but it was so pleasant. Like a cold drink on a summer day. It sent shivers down The Sun's spine, he gently squeezed his hand a little tighter. It felt right, seeing The Moon smile and introduce himself in a hurry, seeing the most darling face. It felt right when The Moon stepped closer and pulled The Sun to him, thought their bodies touched, they were still too far. It felt right when he claimed his lips, The Sun's hands unwillingly finding their way up to The Moon's shoulders, The Moon holding him close, stroking The Sun's face while the kiss lasted. 

The world seemed like it stopped again but just for them this time. After never-ending cycles of switching and bringing day and night, night and day, here they finally were. The Sun couldn't explain how badly he needed this, The Moon, how badly he wanted to feel his coldness and the wind messing his hair. The Moon didn't want to say how much he wanted to feel The Sun in his embrace, feeling his heat and touch. The world felt like it was complete, it felt like rain on a summer evening, like a fireplace on a winter morning, like their purpose was finally done. It felt perfect, like morning dew falling on his hands, like the stars showing themselves, like butterfly wings.

“I finally got to meet my Sun,” The Sun, sighed, running his fingers across The Moon's cheek. His touches were warm and soft, like morning haze.

“God, you taste like honey,” The Moon whispered against The Sun's lips after pulling away from the kiss, still fueled by both, passion and softness. They rested their foreheads against each other, not wanting to move an inch away. He saw The Sun smile, feeling butterflies in his stomach too and seeing them fly out from The Sun's side of the passage. 

He tasted honey once. It was from The Sun, sent on a summer evening. He tasted it once, but it could never equate how sweet and intoxicating The Sun tasted. 

The Sun didn't hesitate a moment before bringing their lips together one more time, needing a second kiss. The Moon's breath was hot but his breeze was cooling him down, a sigh escaping The Sun's lips when he pulled away again. Their worlds were melting away, The Sun stroking The Moon's cheeks. They were smoother than his silken shirt and he could finally see the stars on his chest clearly. They shone, brighter than he could ever imagine. 

He looked below them, on the glass floor. They were both left speechless. Where they stood, the sky turned rosy pink, the color spilling on both sides, day and night. It was the perfect mix between The Sun and The Moon, the most romantic color they'd ever seen. The sky hasn't looked like that ever before. The Sun didn't even notice he was holding The Moon's hands, it came as naturally as laying on his shoulder. “It's so beautiful,” The Moon sighed, looking down at the sky while caressing The Sun's hair. Just now he noticed he was slightly taller than The Sun, his hair tickling his face. 

“You're beautiful,” The Sun breathed, looking up at his other half. When he saw his eyes, he forgot about the sky. He knew they'd hold many stars but nothing could've prepared him for how captivating his look was. But so was The Sun's smile, shining like a thousand stars. The whole world was beneath them but for the time being, they felt like each other's whole world. There was nothing else, no one else, just them. 

The Moon laid down, feeling the world moving again. He knew he wouldn't close an eye, the world spinning underneath him was suddenly the most heartbreaking thing. It signalized getting back into their cycle, running the Earth. It meant he couldn't see The Sun until the world stopped, oh how he longed to see The Sun again. To hold him close, grazing his back with his fingers. To be captivated by his smell, always engulfed in the aroma of wood and nectar. To have his fingers connect the stars on his chest, to hear him talk and laugh. His bed felt a little too big, he wished he could have The Sun there with him. His Sun. He fell for The Sun, he owned his heart. He lay there, never realizing how cold he actually was until he had The Sun warm his hands.

The Sun sat in his chair, hoping the clouds would take care of the day because he wouldn't be able to concentrate. He wished he could lay down next to The Moon, fall asleep next to him. Run his hands through his hair, have him whisper sweet words. And then hold him, close, as closely as he could. Be drowned in his aroma of cinnamon and flowers, to have him trace his freckles and say they're also like constellations. To sit at the edge of the sky again and talk, talk while the world was stopped just for them. And laugh, to hear him laugh and sigh, see his smile and feel him embracing him, to hear his heartbeat. He wished he could look up at him and fall for him over again and over again. The chamber didn't seem so lonely until he met The Moon. 

They didn't know when the world would stop again. They didn't know when they'd see each other again, when they could hold each other again. When they could tell each other their ‘I love you’s again. When they could talk and talk until the morning, seeing the sky hold its pink hue. When they could cool off each other's cheeks and warm up each other's hands. But until then, they'd be in each other's thoughts. Dreams. Wishes and hopes.

The Sun loved The Moon.

The Moon loved The Sun.


	7. Between The Crosshairs PT 1 [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmates can't hurt each other. What happens when an assassin's bullet can pierce someone's skin?

**Between The Crosshairs PT. 1**

Kyle watched the sunset as he sat in the conference room, waiting for his next assignment. He could barely see outside through the barred windows. The whole room smelled of metal and gunpowder, closed off from the rest of the world. The first few times he came here, he felt sick, nauseous. Was this the route he wanted to go down?

But as soon as he received his first payment, he thought about the moral side of things a little less. With each digit he saw on his paycheck, he thought a little less about pulling the trigger. Study, prepare, shoot, flee. It was hard coming back at first, but now it was only about securing the cash. That's all he wanted. He never cared for his targets.

He tapped his fingers on the dirty metal table, waiting for his regular guy. He always came in with his bounty and a new assignment. He didn't need to take it, but everyone was always convinced when they saw the duffel bag full of money. This could be yours, it whispered. His last target was easy enough, just a small drug operation. He didn't need to prepare that much, he was sure no one would investigate. He was safe. It was no high-position assassination. 

His usual middle man came in, throwing the bag along with a sealed file on the table. “Good job on that last one,” Kenny patted his shoulder, already catching the details on his way there. Kyle didn't answer, Kenny's words always sounded so forced. He just nodded mindlessly, already reaching for the file. He tore it open, pulling out a few papers and a photo attached. Kenny left a lighter near the papers, they were supposed to be burned right after Kyle was done deciding whether he'd take the offer or not.

Stan Marsh.

He scanned the photo attached, the boy looked sweet enough. A blurry photo, taken from a building far away. It piqued his interest, why would someone want him gone. That was always the most interesting part. Cheating, competition, betrayal, whatever. Looking at his suit in the photo, he assumed someone just wanted his position.

It was blank. There was no reason given. But the reward was high enough. Too high for him to be just some ordinary person. Looking at his suit in the photo, he assumed someone just wanted his position. This didn't seem like an assignment they'd give to a middle-shooting man like Kyle. This seemed like a job for the top men. 

“The customer said they wanted you, specifically. Apparently, they heard you're one of the best around. Boss wants to give it a try. Said if you'll succeed, you'll hunt with the wolves,” Kenny laughed, proud of his colleague for making it this far. Or maybe he was excited he'd be getting provision from bigger sums. If Kyle's going up, so is he.

Kyle couldn't hide the initial shock, hearing he'd work with the wolves. The wolves. The top hunters in their group. If he'll do the assignment, he'd have to work twice, maybe three times a year. But did he have enough guts to take on the big fish, politicians and CEOs and other gang royalty? Kyle tried to pry some information out of Kenny about who placed the order but he had no idea either. He couldn't track down the person that put in the assignment without getting into serious trouble.

But he took the job. It was the last one he'd need to take this month, maybe even a few months. He'd see how well Kenny will launder his money. There was always a bit lost in the process.

With the duffel bag in his hands, he was on his way out, passing an office nearby. The doors were open, not enough so he could see but enough so he could hear what was going on. It was a familiar voice, one of the guys that worked the same way he did. He heard a lot of inaudible yelling before finally catching some yells.

“How was I supposed to know I couldn't kill her?”

“You know what you had to do.”

“It's not my fault!”

“It's your job.”

“I tried!”

The voice speaking to him remained calm the whole time, never raising up an octave. It's like it didn't even matter. No, no the issue mattered. The man didn't. 

“You know what's our policy on soulmates.”

“The bullet was shot, it's not my fault, please.”

“Please.”

Kyle heard a sob, then some shuffling. He pressed his back against the wall, holding his breath. He knew he shouldn't be listening but somehow couldn't bring himself to leaving. He realized what was coming, he felt it in his stomach even before he heard the shot.

His stomach turned. It shouldn't be this bad, it can't be, but he knew the voice, he recognized the voice from so many missions before, working alongside with him. He knew the man had better chances of getting to the top than he did and still, such a thing crossed him off the list. 

He heard of a few cases like this before but he didn't believe the odds. It all seemed so strange to him anyway. You can't physically hurt your soulmate. Often, he thought about what made the world work like this. Fate? Some higher power? You can't hurt them, by accident or on purpose, not even a bruise. You can't kill them either and that becomes a problem when you're a top tier hitman. That never seemed to be a problem for Kyle though. He had Craig. 

Craig. 

His partner never knew what he did. He couldn't bear telling Craig about how he gets rid of uncomfortable people to order. Thankfully, it was simple enough to convince him that he worked in an office, every morning he left with a suitcase, dressed in that neat suit, Craig would always fix his shirt and give him a little kiss.

Maybe it was easy enough to convince him or Craig just didn't care enough.

It felt empty. Their whole relationship, the soulmate business, felt so mechanical, their every morning and every night. Their every night. What was there, in the beginning, was long gone now, every bit of passion and every bit of desire, love, anger, tears, laughs. He didn't even remember the last time he felt something strong, something real, something new with Craig. He couldn't help but feel guilty. Was it his fault? Was he getting too distant? Maybe they needed a new flame with Craig. A new spark, to make it feel like it did in the beginning. He wanted Craig to feel like his drug of choice again. 

He remembered when they first met and how he felt. He felt so much, the butterflies, his heart beating itself out of his chest. He wanted to wake up to him and fall asleep next to him and he wanted him to be his everything.

But the years passed and it became so dull. Every morning they woke up on the opposite sides of the bed. They got ready, made some coffee. They didn't even speak in the morning, barely commenting on the news. Every time Kyle would leave, Craig would stop him and fix his collar, giving him a little kiss. 

Like two robots. They didn't even think twice about what they did, Craig's kisses and smiles feeling so cold and distant. 

He arrived home late every day, thankful he didn't have to spend more time in the blank grey rooms. Craig would always be home, doing his stuff. Kyle wasn't sure he 100% knew where Craig was even working. These days, they had nothing to talk about. Sometimes they'd watch a movie. Sometimes they'd open a bottle of wine. Sometimes he'd try to see if Craig still gets weak when he hugs him from behind or Craig would try if Kyle's still as loud when he kisses his neck. And he was and for a moment, things seemed fine and he looked into Craig's eyes and he remembered all the nice things but when it was over, it became just as dull. Dull. Grey. Empty.

He wondered if they were really meant for each other.

*

  
It's been a week since Kyle's received the assignment. After hours of debating whether he should take it or not, he decided to take the chance. After all, what did he have to lose? Nothing. It was like a slap in the face, realizing he was fighting for nothing. He used to work so hard for himself, for Craig, to secure himself and his future, he liked his job. He liked to come home and cook something, go out and breathe in the fresh air, summer nights and winter mornings. But now it all felt like a hazy dream, he wondered what kept him going all those years. That thing was gone now. He could barely bring himself to feel anything. He felt like an empty shell, looking for something to fill him up. 

Maybe this mission will be that something. He hasn't felt a thrill like this in a long time, climbing up a cold metal ladder up a concrete roof, directly across Stan's office. The glassy skyscraper reflected the morning sun, blinding Kyle for a short minute. His equipment was stacked neatly in his backpack, he hopped up from the ladder and found a quiet, secluded place from which he could observe his target. Study him, learn his daily routine. He didn't want to use his gun, hoping to take care of him another way. It's not that he didn't know how to work the rifle but figuring it out this way was simply more creative, clean and exciting. 

After a few hours of scribbling messy notes, he packed up his binoculars and papers, the wind getting too strong for him to continue working. He observed the young man when he arrived, setting his belongings on the table, calling in for coffee. A secretary arrived, placing the cup on his neatly organized desk. He barely looked up from his papers, continuing to make calls throughout the whole day, sometimes a person or two stopping by his office for a chat. Kyle didn't need to observe for long to figure out which one placed the order. He saw him always standing afar, further than the other man. He stayed quiet, he couldn't see him talk or even make eye contact. He checked his watch once, twice, three times. They've stood in there for mere 15 minutes. 

The men finally left, Kyle saw a wave of relief in Stan's face too. If he wants to understand what's going on, he'll have to get in closer or get a bug into his office. He observed him as he ordered a third cup of coffee that day, the papers now laying around in a disarrayed mess. Kyle still wasn't sure what exactly this man's job was, getting a foggy idea from the company's name. The huge letters on the skyscraper's roof spelled out a TV station's name, Kyle was glad the man dealt with papers and not actors or actual production. It'd be harder to find a good time to hit if he were dealing with people. This routine seemed more mechanical and repetitive.

He watched him pace around the office opening the huge windows that allowed Kyle to observe his day. He paced around the room, Kyle wondered how much he could be making. Probably a lot, seeing his office, dark wooden furniture, and that perfectly tailored suit, his car. He wasn't even surprised the other man wanted him gone. 

Over a few days, Kyle picked up on Stan's habits and mannerisms, feeling like he's known him for some time now. With Kenny's help, he managed to sneak in a tiny electrical bug into the fake plant that hovered over Stan's table. It was advanced enough to pick up most things, everything important. Kenny put a few into the other offices as well. He learned that there was a huge tender comping up, a slot for another director opening up. It was apparently such a sought-after position, Stan's competition got determined enough to have him removed. Kyle couldn't care less about the target though, as long as he was getting paid.

But something in him learned to appreciate his little quirks and habits, he remembered even the ones that wouldn't help his case. Like how he drank coffee religiously and hovered over his papers and keyboard the whole day. He noticed him whisper the paper's content to himself quietly when he got too concentrated on the content of the contracts. Stan spun his pen in his hands the whole time, tapping his foot nervously. Kyle soon learned that this was his usual state when he was in stress or dealing with such things as the tender. He heard him hum a melody, he thought he recognised a few notes. He knew the song. He saw him fix his hair and tie every time he stood up, wanting to look presentable in front of other employees. He'd always mess it up when hunched over his computer, unknowingly running his hands through his hair.

He noticed so many more things. But most importantly, he had a plan in his head, writing it on a paper and then burning it quickly, just like he did with Stan's file. Kyle needed to destroy all evidence. 

Acquiring a tiny glass bottle of potent clear liquid, he made his way to the TV station. He was dressed in an awful beige uniform, taking a package and a writing board with him. Passing the reception was easy enough, telling them he had a delivery for Mr. Marsh. He noticed the employees never came down or even sent their people. He was let in easily, meeting more trouble with his secretary. Kyle tried to convince her that he had a delivery for Stan that only he could sign under but she refused, saying he had too much work. That she'd take it. But he was persistent, eventually convincing her to go get Stan. She wanted to call him but Kyle swiftly pulled out a cable from the office telephone, masking it behind him. The secretary unwillingly stood up and left, giving Kyle a few seconds. He paced around the room, his hat covering his face from the cameras. Kyle unsuspectingly made his way to the coffee machine where Stan's next coffee was brewing. He shielded the camera's view with the package, pouring in the liquid. He had the room mapped out perfectly. He knew where each camera was, where it was facing. 

Kyle immediately left the property, feeling content with the results. Just for his own satisfaction, he climbed back into his hiding space, grabbing his binoculars and watching as his plan took place. The coffee was already on his table, he recognized the cup. He had already drunk it, now for the poison to take effect. He recognized it all too well, he'd see him sweat, look around in confusion, too dizzy to make sense of what's happening. They'd start salivating, some foaming from the mouth and then things would get ugly. 

Two minutes.

Five minutes.

Nothing.

Ten.

Twenty.

Sixty.

Not a single symptom. Kyle just watched him mumble over the papers, the pen falling out of his hands a few times, the hard metal clinking against the thick wood of his table.

Kyle didn't understand. Did he put the right stuff in?

He called Kenny immediately, asking him to pull the camera recordings. He had to make sure he drank from the cup, the security camera clearly showed it. A wave of panic washed over Kyle, he sat frozen thinking of probable scenarios of why it didn't work. He couldn't have been immune. He poured it in the right cup, he drank from the cup. Where could be the fault? He felt his hands sweat inside of his leather gloves, even though it was freezing cold outside. He wasn't used to failure. After checking off all of the probable mistakes, he decided it was the poison's fault. It must've been. He called Kenny again, asking him to double-check what he's giving him next time. He couldn't afford to have this deal going wrong.

*

  
Kyle couldn't tell if he was home that week or not. His mind was occupied with the deal, he hardly thought about anything else. He greeted Craig automatically, not even realizing he's come home, kissing him like it was a reflex, not even noticing it. His mind was engulfed with his deal, coming up with a new plan. He gave Kenny a piece of his mind, blaming him for the failure of his mission.

The rising sun woke him up, Kyle almost falling asleep over his papers and plans. He didn't even register the whole night has passed, quickly folding his new plans up and tucking them away before Craig wakes up. And when he did, he barely noticed that Kyle's been up the whole night. He didn't care about the empty place in his bed, he got too used to it.

He made them both coffee, dark and bitter, no milk, no sugar. Kyle liked milk in his coffee. That never got through to Craig. Kyle felt more bitter than his morning drink. He'd take the day off, get some sleep. After the long night, the best he figured out was to get an explosive under Stan's car, just like his colleagues did a few months ago. It worked out perfectly for them. 

He already contacted the guy that would supply his little toy, along with a long list of instructions, dangers, and precautions. He already contacted the men that would take care of Stan's car, damaging it just enough so he'd be forced to leave it in a car repair shop. Maybe put some nails on the road, whatever. It was their worry, they knew what to do. Make him stop, look for the nearest place to seek help. Maybe he'd try to call for help, call someone who would help him with his car. He didn't seem like someone who'd be able to change his own tire. Kyle could tell just by the way he looked. 

He looked good. Great. Kyle almost felt bad for having to off him. He still wondered what such a sweet face could've done to have such a big bounty on his head. Something in Kyle irked him to go and find out but killing him without knowing too much is going to be so much easier. 

They'd navigate Stan just to the right place, ready with a few new tires and the explosive. They'd install it without anyone knowing, quietly and precisely, Kyle waiting for the perfect moment to press the button, far away to be safe but close enough to see the whole orchestra. 

*

  
Kyle sat in a nearby café, playing with the controller that was hidden in his pocket. The place was high enough so he could see the parking lot and close enough so he could detonate when he wanted. He knew the signal couldn't be traced back to him, Kenny taking care of that a few days before. 

Before he arrived, he received a call from Kenny, asking what's taking so long. It's been almost two weeks since he has accepted the assignment and their client was growing impatient. Whatever he needed Stan gone for was getting near and he threatened to find another hitman or cut the reward. Thankfully, with Kenny's tongue of gold, he managed to calm him down. But the fire was now lit under Kyle's ass, he felt the pressure. He wasn't nervous yet but he knew he had to finish fast. There was little doubt that the explosive won't kill him. It was his safest bet.

He waited by the counter, the barista putting his order together. He still had some time until his target was getting out, probably staying late too. From what he could tell after observing the company for a week and some, someone wanted Stan out of way to become the COO instead of him. Maybe it was a competition between the few employees and even he could tell that Stan's chances were the best. He didn't spend the days with his secretary behind closed doors, hiring people to do his papers and... and whatever else they did. Kyle watched him closely, an uninvited feeling creeping upon him. It reminded him too much of his own situation, another hitman betraying him and other people working on the case just to get a bigger cut and work with the elite. 

It caught up to him, with a bullet shot into his head. The man didn't count on his target to pull out a gun on him, his vigilance lower and lower as a result of him getting the reward for himself. The target wasn't an easy one, their colleague paying the price for it.

But it was his paycheck. Stan's death was his paycheck and he wanted to get it in full. Kyle sat by a nearby window, tapping his spoon against the half-full cup of coffee. It was already cold but he didn't even notice. He observed the world out of the window, waiting for the perfect moment to push the button in is pocket. He was sure the coffee shop was far enough so no one else would get hurt.

The bell hanging above the entrance rang behind Kyle's back. From what he could hear, a regular stepped in, ordering the same as him. The coffee machine whirled, air filling with pleasant coffee aroma. “Excuse me,” a voice rang behind him. “Do you mind if I sit? This whole place is packed.” Kyle turned around, seeing a familiar face standing behind him with a cup in one hand and a piece of cake in the other. He felt his heart squeeze tight when he looked up at Stan, absent-mindedly nodding. The man thanked him quietly, sitting down on the opposite chair. Kyle hoped he wouldn't want to start a conversation but it seemed like Stan was glad to finally get out of the office and away from all those people and just talk with a regular person. 

He couldn’t help but study the man in front of him. The photos he received didn’t do him any justice. Kyle wondered how he kept himself looking so pure and sweet even after working the job he did. Not a hair out of place. He guessed he managed to catch him at the best time, the setting sun playing a game of warm colors on his face. He has the aura of a fresh spring day, Kyle couldn't describe it in any other way. 

But he also realized he could finish him off right there. He sat unknowingly on his chair, not even in his dreams imagining that someone’s after his neck. He could just pull out his gun that he’s got neatly tucked behind his belt and save them both the trouble. 

Maybe it was something he’d do years ago when he was just a beginner. Get it over with quick and fast, mostly painless. It didn't matter that there were people around, he didn't give much thought to getting caught. 

But now that the opportunity to work with the elite was so close, he didn't take any chances. 

“Such a nice day, isn't it?” Kyle snapped out of his morbid daydreams. Stan was stirring his coffee, mixing in a healthy amount of cream and sugar. His eyes traveled between the setting sun and his drink. Kyle couldn't help but felt uneasy answering, taken back by actually meeting Stan. He had never had a conversation with his target and he hoped it won't make things harder than they already are. 

“Yeah,” he silently agreed, stirring his own cold drink. He hoped he wouldn't ask any more questions, but that wasn't the case. He managed to make small talk without it feeling forced, Kyle eased into a short conversation. He never noticed when they actually started talking. He never asked for his name or his job but he was so easy to listen to. Eventually, he took out a stack of papers and a fancy engraved pen. He filled out some forms and contracts, Kyle couldn't see a word on there. But that was the end of their conversation, Stan only bidding his goodbye when he left. 

The table felt strangely empty now. Kyle liked being alone but something about Stan leaving left him feeling like something's missing. Maybe it was his pleasant presence. But he quickly shook those thoughts away, seeing Stan was going into his car for something. This is it. This is his opportunity.

He watched him open the car doors, leaning in. It was the first time he had second thoughts before pressing the button. His subconscious was telling him to just wait for a second but before he could question his own morality, he found the remote controller in his pocket, pressing the button.

Silence.

Nothing.

Stan simply got out of his car, closed the door and continued on his way back to work. Unharmed. 

Kyle felt his fingers tingle and his heart shrink, fear taking over. He frantically pressed the button over and over, hoping to see the car go up in flames. His fingers were slipping off the controller, feeling so stressed he was losing control of his hands. He pressed the button again and again, watching Stan leave. Nothing. 

He felt sick to his stomach, trying to convince himself that it was just an accident again. A malfunction. He tried to convince himself this wasn't fate doing its work.

Kyle gathered his belongings, noticing Stan had left his fancy engraved pen on the table. He grabbed it, taking it with him. His mind raised the question if this is the worst scenario possible. No, no it couldn't be. He had Craig. Kyle had to go and prove himself wrong. His mind wasn't as clear as during other missions, he slipped into Stan's building and rushed into the elevator, barely stopping at the receptionist speaking to him. He didn't care if they needed to know his name or see his card or whatever. He fiddled with the buttons, quickly closing the elevator door buttons before anyone else could step in. After weeks of watching Stan, he knew exactly where his office was. 

The elevator couldn't get there soon enough, Kyle struggling to get the gun from behind his belt. He managed to free it, setting the safety off and loading it, ready to finish what he started. As soon as he heard the long-awaited ding, he rushed out of the elevator and ran down the hall, seeing Stan's back as he was heading into his office. 

He was close enough, his breaths getting quicker. The gun in his hands felt heavier than ever, his hands shaking too much. He pointed it at Stan's head, the man didn't even notice someone was right behind him. Thankfully, no one else was in the hallway. Kyle took a few deep breaths, pressing the trigger.

Bang.

Clink. 

He watched as a piece of metal fell on the carpet, breaking off of his gun. It landed, the gun in his hands breaking apart. Kyle barely caught the barrel before it fell to the ground, hiding it in his pocket as Stan turned around to see where the noise came from. 

Kyle was struggling to hide the broken pieces of his gun but shoved them in just in time. He saw the surprise in Stan's eyes but the businessman also couldn't hide a delightful little smile. Kyle's head was pounding, his worst expectations coming true. He caught Stan asking him what he's doing there, but not with a single negative emotion in his voice. More like seeing an old friend. Kyle scrambled for words, his brain feeling like a kicked-down puzzle. “I- You forgo- forgot this at the café,” he poorly excused himself, pulling out the pen. Stan's eyes lit up in surprise, taking the pen with a happy smile. Kyle was sure he was telling him a sweet story of who gave it to him and how much it meant to him but his brain was trying too hard to comprehend what was happening to listen to him. 

“I'm guessing the receptionist was too lazy to come to give it to me. Again,” Stan laughed, thanking Kyle. He nodded, already on his way out. He played with the broken parts of his gun in his pocket, feeling just as broken down.

*

  
Kyle was sitting in the kitchen, rolling a needle between his fingers. He dimmed the lights and poured himself some liquor, trying to silence his thoughts. His head still hurt after today's encounter, his soul shaken. He couldn't tell anyone about it. 

His phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. He couldn't bear to listen to the ringing, answering harshly. “What?”

“Kyle, you're out of time.”

“What?”

“The client passed your deal to someone else. You took too long,” Kenny sighed, obviously not happy about the change either.

“What? No, no I just need a... I need one more day.”

“Kyle, you had weeks.”

“One day.”

“Listen, I could see how you couldn't kill him. I should be reporting this shit to... You know who. I'm not losing a client over this. You're off the case.”

“No, no Kenny, I just need one more day. One day, you hear?” Kyle tried to hide the desperation in his voice. But he needed to finish the case. It was his opportunity to go a step further, higher, if nothing, to feel the prestige of working with the hunters. He just needed one more day.

“You had enough time, dude. I'm sending one of my men there tomorrow. Please stay out of it.”

“Ken-”

“Stay out of it. If you don't want to see a bullet flying into your head too. That's final.”

Beep. Call ended. Kyle couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt. He put the phone on the table, his hands began shaking again. He wasn't used to feeling like this but the last few weeks have been getting increasingly difficult. Stan, Craig, everything, and everyone. It was such a mess, the whole world planning revenge on him. 

The doors opened, Craig absent-mindedly greeting him, not even looking up. His voice sounded so cold, automatic. Kyle knew they'd be going around each other the whole night, barely even acknowledging the other one. Hard day at work, all that bullshit. He was so sick of not being able to exchange three meaningful sentences with Craig anymore.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

“Can you prick my finger?”

“What?” Craig looked at him, confused. But Kyle knew he understood, as soon as he saw him with a glass in one hand and a needle in the other. His gaze softened, Kyle saw but it did nothing with him. 

“With a needle. Prick my finger,” he said quietly, handing it to his soulmate. Craig was reluctant to take it, sighing as he wondered what to tell Kyle. He knew he needed to tell him and he's been postponing it for so long, he never thought Kyle would come up and ask this.

“We don't have to do this.”

“Craig, I need to know.”

“You already know. That's why you're asking me to do this,” Craig whispered, feeling a little hurt. He knew they weren't soulmates. He's known for a long time now. But his moral backbone forbade him from leaving. Or maybe it wasn't strong enough and that's why he hadn't left. He showed Kyle a scar on his finger. Kyle immediately knew. It was from when they were cooking together, Kyle accidentally cutting him. But Craig never told him he bled and he definitely didn't tell him how much he cried days after that. Finding out that the one you love isn't the one you're meant to be with. 

It was hard for Craig. He felt lost. He spent all this time with Kyle and now he didn't know where to go, what to do. Whether he should tell him. He didn't know. And he was so paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, he did nothing. He stayed in the empty relationship in their empty home, love and passion vanishing every time they opened their front doors and left. Now it felt cold and distant, more like a prison cell than home. 

“Why didn't you tell me,” Kyle whispered. He didn't have enough strength to look Craig in the eyes. His eyes were glued to the scar on his finger. 

“I don't know,” Craig admitted, pouring himself a glass of poison too. He didn't know how to explain to Kyle, also didn't want to look for excuses. He didn't want to make it look like he wasted his time. “You found someone, didn't you?” he asked, his voice sounding so sour. 

Kyle stood up, heading straight to bed. He didn't dare to look at Craig. Yes, he may have met someone but not under circumstances he'd like. Sleepiness hit him hard, like a heavy blanket falling over him. He laid on the very edge of his side of the bed, wishing to not see Craig when he goes to sleep and when he wakes up. He couldn't bear to look at him. He dreaded accidentally touching him at night, rolling around to seeing him. He hated leaving Craig like that but it was easier to let go than to keep holding on.

*

  
Kyle couldn't let it go. He positioned his rifle on the edge for support, aiming the crosshairs at Stan's office. He hasn't arrived yet but Kyle was ready to shoot the moment he aimed correctly. He wasn't giving up on this mission.

He was sprawled on the cold ground, his finger resting on the trigger. Stan's car was in the parking lot, now he just needed to catch him at the right moment. 

Kyle's phone rang again. Kenny.

“Kyle, get the fuck out of there.” 

“What?”

“I know you're there. I have my men on the scene. You better pack your shit before I send them after you too.”

“I need 20 more min-”

“You're not getting anything,” Kenny hissed. “My men almost have him, don't interfere. My men are after him. And then they're after you. You're not saving your fucking soulmate or whatever.” That wasn't a warning. That was an announcement.

Kyle frantically searched the floors, his binoculars pressed against his face. He needed to know where Kenny's men were. His goal changed from aiming at Stan to saving him in a matter of seconds. He couldn't help himself. He wouldn't forgive himself for not saving his soulmate now that he's found him even though he still tried to deny it. 

He stopped at Stan's office, seeing him arrive. And right behind him, a familiar face. Kyle couldn't quite put a name on him but his stomach dropped, seeing the man pull out a gun. He didn't hesitate. He pulled the trigger.

That's the part one, be sure to stay tuned for part two, coming to theaters near you this spring. As always, if you enjoy these, be sure to leave a comment if there's something you'd like to see or just leave some nice words! It's all very much appreciated!! 


	8. Between The Crosshairs PT 2 [M]

**Between The Crosshairs PT 2**

Stan held the knife up to Kyle's throat, the blade not yet touching his skin. He could barely hold it in his hand, all of his energy consumed by trembling and trying to keep his tears at bay but he felt them dwelling up in his eyes. Kyle repeated himself. Do it, he told him. He urged him. He'd either set himself free if he doesn't believe him, or see that he just can't hurt him. He can't lay a finger on him.

Stan didn't know what to think. He wasn't too sure about the whole soulmates business, keeping his relationships either professional or short-term. He didn't know how to feel about allegedly finding his soulmate under such bizarre circumstances. He's known the man for fifteen minutes, from the point where he ran out of the building to the point where he dragged him to his car and drove into the woods, taking an old, raggedy road. The trees hovered over them, letting them park in a nice shade and hidden from the whole world. 

It took him some time to fully realize what had happened, finally seeing the hitman's brain splattered on the floor in his head. He thought he'd be sick. It was good ten minutes into the car ride when he started shaking, too afraid to even look at Kyle. He knew he was telling him something, explaining something to him but the pounding in his head made it almost impossible to hear. He laid on his knees, taking deep breaths to calm down but the feeling of losing control of the whole world was too overwhelming. He could hear Kyle calling his name but he didn't move an inch, didn't say a word, ultimately forcing the assassin to stop the car and check on him.

He had to explain the whole ordeal again, holding Stan's hands to keep his attention. He could feel his hands tremble, sweat and he held them that much tighter. He didn't know how to convince Stan things will turn out fine. Kyle mentioned the word soulmates again and again until Stan finally understood, shaking his head in disbelief. No, he whispered, again and again. Kyle was losing his patience, pulling out a shark knife from the glovebox, pressing it into Stan's hand and pulling his arm to his throat. He seemed so sure, not even blinking an eye while trusting Stan with his life. “See for yourself,” he told to the shaking mess that was sitting next to him.

Stan took a deep breath, instead taking Kyle's hand. He didn't have enough guts to press it into his throat. He gripped the blade, pressing it into Kyle's skin but only seeing a little screw falling on the floor and the knife falling apart. His eyes widened in shock, letting the handle fall onto the ground too. His brain was trying to process so many things at once, it turned into such a mess in his head he couldn't form a single thought. He looked up at Kyle, waiting for an answer. “Is... Is this some sor-rt of a trick?” he quietly asked, twisting the blade between his fingers. It was sharp, sharp enough to scrape his skin.

“It's not,” Kyle sighed, taking the now broken blade and showing Stan what he meant, ready to stab it through Stan's hand but the blade cracking into two. His soulmate gasped, pulling his hand away. He didn't know what to take from this. He's found his soulmate. He's also got a bounty on his head.

*

  
Kyle struggled to fish his keys out his pocket, checking his surroundings both left and right before opening the doors to his apartment. Stan followed closely, cautiously stepping into the unfamiliar room. He looked at the neatly cleaned flat, not a leaf out of place. But he soon caught a glimpse of the bedroom, with opened closets and clothes thrown out on the bed. Kyle seemed not to notice yet, quietly closing the doors behind him and making his way into the kitchen.

Stan tried to analyze what had happened here before they arrived. He sat on the couch, unwillingly keeping himself as small as possible. He felt cold and afraid. The only things he had on him were his keys and wallet, leaving everything else at his office. The suit he was wearing was becoming uncomfortable but there was little he could do about it now. He didn't want to follow Kyle everywhere he went. But it suddenly dawned on him he was tied to Kyle, as much as he wanted to stand up and leave, go home to his life, wake up the next morning, forget everything that had happened. Someone wants him gone, someone powerful and his best chances were sticking with someone who knows how to navigate in this world. This wasn't his scene. 

He was glad he wasn't shaking as much as before. Kyle managed to calm him down, enough for him to speak in proper sentences now. But he still didn't know what their next plan was. The fact that they were soulmates almost escaped his thoughts, his top priority being his own safety. He didn't give their uncanny meeting much thought. He didn't know whether soulmates were always romantic or if it meant they'd be just great friends. He didn't have a clue. Stan never thought he'd meet his soulmate, laughing at how absurd their situation was. Kyle being the assassin, Stan his target. And now he's shielding him from the scary world of hitmen and... and whatever else he was dealing with. 

Stan stood up quietly, making his way to the kitchen island to be closer to his savior. There was something about his presence that made him relax a little bit more, convincing him that things are fine for a few minutes. It was strange to Stan, considering he hasn't known him for too long. Kyle turned around, a little smile appearing on his face. “Coffee?”

“It's evening already. I think I'll pass.”

“It's going to be a long night,” Kyle warned him, setting out two white cups, knowing his soulmate will change his mind. Once the adrenaline rush is gone, the sleepiness will hit you hard. He won't even notice, he won't know where his energy's gone. He didn't even bother asking if he liked cream and sugar, automatically pouring it in. Stan thought it was nice, kinda sweet. Maybe he remembered his order from the coffee shop. 

“How are you feeling?” Kyle asked his companion, pushing the cup towards him. It was the first silent, calm moment he had that day and just now he realized he really needed to catch his breath. What now? Kyle wasn't sure. He wasn't sure where to take Stan, where to take them both. He got himself into some serious trouble, shooting one of Kenny's hitmen and running away. He knew there was now a target on his back too. He wondered whether there was a reward. 

“I'm... scared,” Stan admitted, looking away so he wouldn't have to face Kyle when he said it, humiliated. In his eyes, this was something Kyle was dealing with daily. Totally natural for him. But he didn't want him to see he's afraid. Afraid of what's going to happen, what he'll do now. He knew he couldn't stay there. Or in the city, even. The more he thought about his situation, the more he felt like the ground from below his feet was disappearing and he was falling. Every option he came up with had more and more holes, he didn't know where to go or what to do. He felt so helpless, turning to Kyle for help. In a matter of minutes, he turned into the only stable point in his life. Stan didn't know whether there was an exit out of this situation.

Kyle gave him a warm smile, telling him it's okay. Totally normal. He watched Stan reach for a paper left on the kitchen island, he didn't notice it before. Beside laid a pair of keys. “Bad breakup?” he asked, nodding his head towards the bedroom. He immediately wished he hadn't said that, reading the letter. It didn't take Kyle long to figure out it was Craig's last goodbye. He observed Stan scan the words, his expression changing into a worried one, looking up at Kyle with sorry eyes. He handed him the paper, feeling like he's invaded his privacy. That, along with the messy bedroom gave him a pretty clear idea of what had happened. Kyle didn't even want to read the paper, he feared Craig's words might spark some long-forgotten feelings in him. It was the last thing he needed. He just caught the ‘love you’ at the end before setting the paper down and pulling out a box of bonbons, offering Stan a few. 

“Oh, fancy,” he laughed as he read the varieties out loud, opting for the white chocolate ball that claimed to contain strawberries and champagne. 

“Yeah, had it prepared for an anniversary,” Stan bitterly sighed, leaning on the counter. He cursed himself for even caring about that date, still reminding Craig to look for the spark in their relationship. But it was all lost.

It didn't hurt though. Looking at the raided bedroom that held so many memories, he didn't feel anything. Just a little empty. He knew he hadn't found his stash. His weapons and cash, neatly stacked in duffel bags. It was his last option for when things got dangerous. He looked back at Stan, wondering if things really were that bad. 

The doorbell rang.

Stan looked at Kyle with terror in his eyes, fearing the worst. Kyle froze in his steps, his mind slipping back into reality. He'd forgotten about the hunt on them that was happening. He cursed himself, how could he be so stupid. How could he bring Stan here, putting them both in such danger? He knew they'd come looking for him in his home, he knew, he knew, yet he brought Stan here. Kyle told Stan to go into the bedroom and hide, to keep out of sight. He followed him, grabbing a gun he kept hidden away in his part of the closet.

Stan could sense things were getting serious, seeing the sudden change in Kyle's expression. He sat near the closet, on the fluffy carpet and covered his mouth with his hand to keep himself from breathing too loudly or letting out any sounds that would reveal his location. Kyle gave him an assuring nod before tucking the gun behind his belt, cautiously approaching the doors.

He heard Kenny's voice behind the wall, hearing him yell and scream to open the door. He looked to see if he was alone, sure enough, he was. Probably came alone to have the satisfaction of putting a bullet into each of their skulls. To keep a low profile, he kept his weapon hidden but Kyle knew it was within a hand's reach. He knew he had to act fast precise. He couldn't afford one wrong move, he knew Kenny was well trained and one of the better men. He just hoped he had the upper hand here. Kyle slipped on his trusty leather gloves, it was more of a habit than actually concealing evidence. 

He could hear his old partner yelling, demanding to be let in. That Kyle knew what he'd done. That he's there to finish it all, that he knew it was coming. He told him he warned him, he didn't want it to come to this. But they had a deal, you hear me, we had a deal and now I have the client after my fucking neck. I'm not paying for it myself.

He knew he couldn't let Stan open the door, Kenny would finish him off in a matter of seconds. Instead, he shakily turned the doorknob, hoping Kenny's emotion will get the best of him and he'll be less cautious. Kyle was right, Kenny struggling to pull out his gun as soon as the door opened. Kyle didn't hesitate a second, grabbing his arm that was about to aim, bending his elbow over his knee in an unnatural angle, a loud crack filling the room. Before Kenny could scream, Kyle pulled him inside and shut the door after him. He laid on the ground, clutching his arm but still holding the gun, ready to shoot. Kyle kicked his little toy away, hitting his hand in the process. He grabbed the injured man by the collar, dragging him to the kitchen. Kenny was squirming and kicking but a few blows did the trick. Kyle wasn't thinking clearly either, primal instincts taking over. Protect. His mind was telling him he needed to protect Stan. He ignored Kenny's screams and threats, his only goal was to save them both. 

He knew he couldn't shoot, the neighbors getting wary. It was suspicious enough when he stood outside, yelling. In the corner of his eye, he saw Stan standing in the bedroom doorway, watching the whole scene. He hated it, he didn't want him to see the whole mess. Kyle sat on Kenny's chest, his hands squeezing Kenny's throat tighter and tighter with each breath he let out until all he heard was a quiet gurgling sound, his hands trying to pry off Kyle one more time before falling on the ground and then silence. Deafening silence.

He hoped Stan didn't hear much of Kenny's screams and pleads and threats, that he didn't see him fighting for his life. But he knew he saw it all, cursing him for running into the kitchen as soon as he heard the noise. Kyle finally let go of Kenny's throat, throwing down his gloves before running to his soulmate and barely catching Stan from falling to the ground. He caught himself on the wall, his eyes glued to the corpse that was now lying in the kitchen. Stan felt dizzy, his eyes stuck on the corpse but his mind clouded, his vision getting blurry. He covered his mouth instinctively, worried he might get sick. But Kyle's arms brought some kind of comfort, leading him to the couch. Stan hung onto his savior, he sat him down and grabbed his face to look at him, Stan couldn't tear his eyes away from the head that was still peeking from behind the kitchen island. 

“Look at me,” Kyle whispered, again and again, trying to get Stan's attention. He couldn't say a word, his throat and heart shrunk from the scene he had witnessed. He watched Kyle murder that man in cold blood and now he was sitting there, tenderly holding his face and asking if he's okay. At least he had protection, Stan sighed, looking back at Kyle. 

“It's going to be fine, okay? I'll take care of it. Look at me. You stay here and don't move,” Kyle ordered quietly before searching for his phone and calling up a few contacts that will take care of the body. He ran into the bedroom, grabbing whatever he could but most importantly, his duffel bag and bare essentials, his guns, and bullets. He threw whatever into the nearest suitcase he could find, knowing the real action's just about to begin.

*

They've been driving the whole night. Kyle didn't know where they're going but hoped Stan was okay with not coming back. He knew he put him in this position but he couldn't see any other way of protecting them both. They were running away. 

“Why couldn't we take my car?” Stan whined, reaching for his bag that was thrown on the back seat. After he convinced Kyle to drive him home to grab whatever he thought was necessary, they only really had time to throw whatever they brought into the car and quickly drive away. It was clear to Stan there were many people after them now. He knew it won't be smooth sailing from now on. “My car's better anyway.”

“Your car is also registered,” Kyle chuckled, watching his new partner change from his suit into something more comfortable by the corner of his eye. They'd never get far with his car, it was almost too easy to track it down. His car, however, didn't have an owner, registration, for all the officials knew, it was just a functioning piece of metal. “It's also a bright orange. You think no one would notice?”

“I'm just going to miss it.”

That hit Kyle in the chest. He knew he was tearing Stan away from the life he knew, from his prestigious job and fancy cars, his glass cube of a house, family and friends, everyone he knew. At this point, he was the only person Stan could turn to and he felt sorry, he felt so sorry for him. Kyle couldn't shake the feeling of guilt away. But Stan hasn't complained, not once. His mood seemed much better since they've left, he even smiled every now and then. 

“You know, we'll have to... start again,” Kyle sighed, driving past another road sign. He didn't know what his destination was but he knew it had to be far. Stan's heart skipped a beat when Kyle ‘we’. He didn't realize they were now tied together.

Soulmates.

He realized now they were soulmates. After all that turmoil today, he never gave it much thought. But now that he had some time to think, it dawned on him. Stan repeated the word under his breath, somehow, it sounded so sweet. He never thought he'd have a soulmate. He was sure he'd be so swamped with work he'd have no time for such things. But it felt nice, knowing the universe assigned them together. Soulmates. 

He looked at Kyle as he was driving, finally catching all the details in his face. He didn't have time to do that before. He had a pretty face. Now that he relaxed a little bit, he could see that. “I'm not worried.”

“You're not?”

“I mean, how we'll figure it out,” he smiled to himself. He hoped Kyle knew how these things worked. Because from what he could tell, he was cut away from his credit card, contacts, friends, all of his documents. He didn't want to make it sound so drastic but he guessed they'd have to get a whole new life. A new identity. 

Kyle's thoughts were racing. He couldn't even imagine where to begin, with getting them new documents and names, identification, how to get them checked into the system. Their destination was a bigger city, that he knew for sure. With the cash he had stuffed in his trunk, they could last a pretty long while. Maybe get a little apartment, with a nice little kitchen and a window into the city, have coffee in the morning... But he was getting ahead of himself. He didn't even know their final destination. He might need help. Thankfully, there were a few people he could turn to.

“How did you manage to walk out with so much cash so quickly?” Kyle questioned Stan, before they left the town they stopped at a bank. He left the building with a nice little suitcase, Kyle knew it was nothing compared to what was left in his account but it was all useless now. 

“I know people in the right places.”

“Don't tell me you're doing illegal shit too.”

“I mean it's not what you'd call legal but... We knew how to wiggle in between the laws,” Stan laughed, cuddling his sweater closer to his body. It was late and sleep was dawning on him but he wanted to stay up and continue talking to Kyle. He wanted to get to know him. He wanted to see why they were soulmates. 

*

It was near morning when Kyle realized they were running low on gas. He stopped at the nearest gas station for petrol and some snacks. He could hear how tired Stan was from the way he slurred his words and how his eyes were closing but he rather stayed up the whole ride, talking to Kyle. It was just a few hours but they felt like they've known each other for years, they were starting to feel so close. He asked Stan if he wanted some coffee but as soon as they stopped talking for a while, he was fast asleep. Kyle couldn't hide the little smile that came up on his face, grabbing a blanket from the back and draping it over his soulmate. 

He was standing by the register, waiting for the clerk to come back when the morning news came up, informing about what had happened yesterday. His heart clenched, he hoped the worker wouldn't recognize either of them. They didn't mention him but they mentioned Stan, labeling him as a missing person. No one would care about a miserable hitman but he hoped Stan wouldn't stay in the spotlight for too long. The news wasn't very specific, informative enough to snatch the viewer's interest but too vague for anyone to care. He looked outside, checking to see if the car's still there. He checked out, driving away. 

*

Kyle almost spilled his coffee when Stan woke up, forgetting someone's in the car with him. “Dude, are you okay?”

“Yeah, it's been a long night.”

“Maybe you should get some sleep. You've been driving the whole night.”

“I'm used to pulling all-nighters.”

“Sure, but not when you've also got me on your hands. Come on, we'll switch. You should get some rest.”

Kyle needed some more convincing but eventually pulled over by a field, stepping out to get some fresh air. Stan wanted to join him but decided to stay in, seeing Kyle was making some calls. From the look on his face, they weren't pleasant ones. He wanted to help. He didn't want Kyle to take all of this on himself, setting them up for a new life. He wanted to help as much as he could, he knew people, he could get them places. But he didn't know how, how to help him. He hated feeling so hopeless. Like he couldn't do anything, just sit and wait. 

Kyle opened the trunk, pulling out a paper and a pen from his bag. He sat by the car, overseeing the field. His phone was stuck between his shoulder and his face, his pen scribbling uncomprehensive notes. Stan saw some arrows and numbers, names. He couldn't make much out of it but the moment he hung up, Stan was out of the car, sitting next to him. 

“Do you... have any old friends that died?” Kyle asked out of the blue, tapping his pen into the paper. Such a strange question but he thought about it, nodding. Kyle's eyes widened and an excited smile appeared, explaining the whole concept to him. And Stan tried to listen but what he caught was only that it was his new identity now. Apparently, it wasn't too hard to fake someone's identity, it was much harder to create a new one. They'd already be in the system, just a few steps away from getting all the documents needed. They'd be far away enough so people wouldn't recognize them and birth and death certificates weren't that connected. Especially if the man died in a different city. It seemed like the sun shone a little brighter, they had what seemed like the beginning of a plan. Kyle explained the whole plan but Stan got lost in the process, in the end just watching Kyle's lips and nodding mindlessly. 

Stan pulled the blanket off of him, wrapping it around his partner instead. He saw the gratefulness in his eyes that someone was taking over the road for a while. He looked so tired and Stan didn't question that for a second, considering how much has happened the past few days. From saving him to almost stabbing a blade through his arm, eating chocolates before almost getting shot. It's been a wild ride. Kyle whispered a little thank you, holding the blanket closer and taking the passenger's seat before falling asleep.

When he woke up, it was night already. The car stopped, Kyle sat up in a panic and looked around to see where they were. Stan looked calm enough, parking the car near a dimly lit building. “Thought you could use some sleep.” Stan put the car keys in his pocket, grabbing whatever bags he could and stepping out. Kyle followed, confused. Before they could lock the car and leave, Kyle grabbed his partner's arm, waiting silently for an explanation. “We have to get some rest. This place is basically for... our company's managers and their... companions. I recognized the village's name on a road sign. No one's finding us here,” he assured Kyle and led the way, greeting the clerk who called him by his name. Kyle stayed aside, watching Stan banter with the boy as if he was an old friend. He didn't even feel tired anymore, sleeping the whole way there. But he thought he could eat a horse at that point. 

Kyle was glad Stan knew this place since they came here so often, no one asked for any identification or papers or credit cards. It was like a safe haven for the night. Stan retrieved the card to their room, leading the way. But not before asking the boy to send up room service in a while. From what Kyle could hear, it was his usual suite. He still couldn't get over the fact of how unnaturally rural the hotel tried to look, still keeping a high level of class. The wooden walls and ceilings gave it a homey feel, along with fluffy cream carpets. “So... you come here often?”

“I try not to.”

“Not even with your... companions?” Kyle teased, pushing the card into a reader and pulling it out. He lit up the lights in their room, a spacious suite practically made of wood and fur. Stan made his way to the couch, setting his luggage there. “I hope you don't intend on sleeping there,” he heard from behind him, Kyle taking off his jacket. He laughed but it never occurred to him they'd sleep on the bed together. Before he did anything else, he opened the windows, letting in some fresh forest air. The hotel was far off the road, hidden between trees. If he remembered correctly, there was a lake nearby. 

“I asked them to get us some food and wine. Hope you're in the mood for a salad,” Stan chuckled, digging through his luggage and disappearing into the bathroom for the hot bath he so desperately needed. 

Kyle couldn't sit around waiting, taking the opportunity to sit down with his papers again, making all the calls he could. He sketched out their next days, writing over and crossing out ideas. The more he looked at it, the more it started to take form. It gave him some assurance, seeing they had a concrete plan. This might just work out. 

Stan wasn't kidding when he mentioned the salad, Kyle taking small bites of the orange pieces that were thrown in. The wine arrived too but he decided to wait for Stan. The water stopped running and the bathroom doors opened, Stan stepping out in just a towel wrapped around his waist. Kyle turned around and as hard as he tried, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the water droplets running down his chest but quickly looked away after realizing he's been staring for a second too long. The bathroom was full of steam but it was nothing, compared to how Stan looked at that moment. He forgot about the whole new identity ordeal for a second. 

Before he left for the bathroom, he questioned Stan about that friend whose identity he'll be taking on. If he knew him well, his name, his birthday, his mother's maiden name, how he died, what he studied. It'd be important if he were to pretend to be him. Thankfully, they were great friends. He died in a traffic accident some years ago. He saw the sadness in Stan's eyes when he spoke about him but it could be just the point that made their plan work. He did have an identity for himself too. 

He realized carrying out a plan like this would be incredibly hard. They take years to plan precisely and gluing one together over three days was more of a challenge than Kyle asked for. But something in him was glad he was going through it with Stan and no one else. He asked him to wait for him with the wine, Stan urging him to hurry up. 

He came out and grabbed a glass of wine, standing near the window. The cold air felt even colder on his wet skin. Stan was sitting on the bed, now fully dressed to Kyle's disappointment. He managed to get him talking, glad to hear him speak and laugh. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” Stan sighed, spinning the liquid in his glass around. He looked through Kyle's plans while he was in the shower, worried about how they're going to carry out such a plan. But he put his whole trust in him, confident it'll work out. “It's still a little strange that I have a soulmate, though.”

“Strange?” Kyle questioned, a little worried about his answer. He really felt something when he was with Stan and if he doesn't... He never thought about whether Stan is okay with this. He wasn't sure about how Stan felt about him. 

“Yeah, I.... never thought I'd have one. And now I do.”

“Are you disappointed?” Kyle asked but regretted the question, worrying about the answer. He didn't remember the last time he felt butterflies or feeling his heart skip a beat like when Stan looked at him. He's known him for the shortest time but he felt like Stan was slowly taking his right mind, all that was left were hazy thoughts and dreams. It felt so stupid to admit that he'd done in three days what Craig couldn't do in years. It felt so dumb to admit he let himself fawn over someone he barely knew. But under these circumstances, he was okay with letting his emotions run a little wild.

Stan couldn't hide the shock in his eyes, quickly turning it into a smile. “No, no of course not. I don't think there could be a better fit than you.” Stan's heart danced a little, seeing Kyle smiling from ear to ear. He felt his own heartbeat going just a little faster.

“Well, we are faith's chosen fit after all.” Stan stood up, coming closer to his soulmate. He set his glass on the table, reaching behind him and closing the window, it was getting too cold. He didn't even realize he was standing inches away until he realized how dreamy he smelled, like cinnamon and wood. 

“Oh, you could've just said so,” Kyle quietly laughed, setting his own glass down. 

“No, no, I-...” Stan got lost in his own thoughts when he looked up into Kyle's eyes. His mind went blank for a few seconds, feeling Kyle's breath on his own skin. He never thought twice about leaning in, finally feeling Kyle's lips on his own. Stan could never describe how right it felt, like two jigsaw puzzles finally falling into each other, his mind screaming yes and his hand unwillingly running up Kyle's chest. Kyle's lips kissing back felt like the whole universe was turning just for them, not a single thing wrong in the world.

But for a split second, he realized what he was doing, pulling away quickly with a horrified look on his face. Kyle's heart stopped for a moment, worried he did something wrong. Stan touched his lips in disbelief, stepping away. “I-I'm sorry, I... I shouldn-” he mumbled, not even finishing his sentence before Kyle pulled him back again, grabbing his pretty face and kissing him again. This time, Stan didn't think twice, pressing his body against Kyle's and softening into the kiss, running his hands up Kyle's chest and feeling every bit of skin and muscle underneath his shirt. Kyle's hands found his hips, pulling him even closer and feeling him melt into his touch. 

Kyle felt electricity running through his body, Stan intoxicating him with every kiss and every touch. He wasn’t sure whether he could think or speak clearly at this point, his mind conquered by Stan’s hands running through his hair. 

He let his head fall back on the window, feeling Stan trail kisses from his lips down his jaw, licking his neck. He seemed to know just what to do to get the right response from Kyle, reading him like an open book. He was already working on getting rid of his shirt when he stopped midway, looking up at Kyle with those eyes he could die for at that moment. “Are you s-”

“Please,” Kyle breathed, pulling Stan back, returning the favor, he couldn’t stand not kissing him for a moment, not tasting him, not feeling him, not owning him. Whatever need to protect Stan was gone, all that was left was raw lust greed, he wanted him, wanted him for himself. He didn't care if he left marks on his skin or left him begging, groaning. Stan had something he'd been craving for so long. 

*

Kyle's eyes shot open as soon as he heard the banging on their hotel door. For a moment he couldn't even get up, listening if the noise will go away. It didn't, someone was banging on their door angrily. He didn't have time to check what time it was, scrambling around to look for his shirt. Stan woke up too, deciding to take care of the disruptor himself. Kyle almost didn't catch him in time, gently pushing him back towards the bed. He didn't say a word but reached over to the table, taking his gun with him. He shallowly hid it behind his back, stepping towards the door.

He knew it won't be good, that someone must've found out where they were. Kyle took a few deep breaths, placing his hand on the doorknob. Before he opened the door, he checked to see if Stan's safe in the back, far enough so the man wouldn't see him. 

Kyle opened the door slightly just so he could barely see outside. “What's the problem?“ he hissed, not ecstatic over the fact someone woke him up in the middle of the night. He thought he recognized him from somewhere but his brain couldn't figure out where from. 

And then it hit him, like a bullet. He was from Stan's firm, the man he saw a few times in his office. At this point, he was sure he was the one who wanted Stan gone. 

“Where is he?” the man demanded to know, Kyle was unsure how dangerous this man was. He wasn't much taller and didn't look that strong but who knows what kind of trick he might pull. 

“I don't know what y-”

“You know fucking well what I mean. I have info saying he's here. Get him.”

“I'm not ge-” Kyle couldn't finish his sentence, the man grabbing his wrist tightly and pulling him out of the doorway. Kyle held his position, still hiding his pistol behind his back. He tried to keep calm and not blow his head off right that minute, he didn't need more problems. “I'm not getting shit,” he finally answered, swallowing dryly. He didn't let himself be intimidated by him.

Kyle had time to reconsider, suddenly staring down the barrel of the gun. “Get him before I get him myself,” the man whispered quietly, pointing his gun towards the room. Kyle guessed he didn't know how to deal with actually killing someone, seeing how his hands were shaking. Probably wanted to take him somewhere remote, finish him off there. It'd be too much of a mess to do it in a hotel. Kyle knew it'd be no use, pulling out his own gun. He'd just get scared and start shooting everywhere. He couldn't believe how much he hated dealing with people like this. They couldn't even put up a good fight. 

With not many options left, he stepped aside, allowing him to enter the room. He didn't even dare to look back at Stan, he couldn't bear seeing his terrified face. The man went past him, Kyle taking advantage of the second he let his guard down, going right for his knees. He tackled the man to the ground, jumped on his back. Kyle pressed the man's face into the carpet, trying to muffle his yells. He tried to reach for the gun he dropped while falling, Kyle stopping him in his tracks by stepping on his wrist, hearing a nasty crunch in the process. 

Stan watched the whole scene from far away, huddled up in the bed. He couldn't believe his co-worker was there, gun in his hand, ready to take his life over something such as his position. He watched Kyle tackle him, but he seemed like a completely different person. This was his work expression, his work attitude. It almost seemed like him and the person who he fell asleep next to, the person who coddled him when he was having a near panic attack at his house, it wasn't the same person. It took him such a short time to forget he's a hitman, a trained killer. 

But Kyle didn't seem like he wanted to kill him, grabbing whatever cloth he could find and bunching it up in the man's mouth, tying it around to silence him. He tore away a piece of the sheet they slept on, tying it around the man's hands and ankles, tight enough to burn whenever he tried to move. But not before the man freed himself for a second, giving Kyle a nasty punch across his jaw. He quickly shook it off, giving the man what he deserved, tying his limbs in unnatural positions behind his back. He knew what he was doing, he knew exactly how to tie each knot so it wouldn't undo in the time needed. Kyle finally got up, giving the man one last blow to his jaw. He seemed to go unconscious, going from fighting, struggling mess to going limp on the carpet. He dragged him into the bathroom, closing the door and lighting up some lights to go check on Stan. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, the poor thing holding the blankets close to his chest and staring at the scene with wide eyes. There was a little bit of blood left on the carpet, along with the man's gun. Stan looked up at his soulmate, seeing his busted lip. He didn't dare to touch it, ask him if he's alright. Stan was swamped by feelings of guilt. 

Kyle didn't receive an answer, stroking his cheek until he gave him a little nod. Form there on, he couldn't exactly remember what happened, just Kyle quickly packing their belongings and the next thing he knew, they were back in the car, speeding away. 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered when they left the room, when they ran from the hotel, he kept whispering he's sorry when they sat in the car. Kyle didn't have the time to realize he's been wiping away tears until they were driving away but a wave of worry came over him when he realized. “What's wrong?” he softly asked, not to draw any more tears out. He searched for his soulmate's hand, holding it tightly.

“I- I led us into there. God, I led us into a trap. I should've known they'd be looking for me there. I should've known! I bet it was the clerk who gave him a call, I- I should've known,” he whimpered, running his hands over his face. Kyle pulled the car over, turning to his soulmate.

“Dude, we're okay. We're okay, we're going away,” he assured him, wiping one last tear away. But Stan shook his head, grabbing a tissue and wetting it with his water bottle, wiping Kyle's dried up wound. He didn't even notice it was bleeding, blood dried on his face. It stung a little but he couldn't help but melt over how scared for him Stan seemed. He leaned in, giving his partner a little peck on the forehead. “It's okay, baby,” he assured him. “You couldn't have known. We're driving away, okay? We're leaving all this behind.” And they left it all behind, with the image of their new life just above the horizon.

*

Stan looked at the sunset, sitting in his little kitchen. He was barely seeing the sun over city buildings. He held his cup close, stirring mindlessly. The whole room smelled of fresh flowers. When he first arrived, it looked like a hard new beginning. Empty and bare, waiting for his touch to transform it into his own. Now, years later, it finally felt like home.

The first night they spent there, he was having doubts. Even after all they've been through. Was this really the route they wanted to go down? The route he wanted to go down? He built himself up so well in his old city and starting from scratch, starting from nothing seemed so intimidating. The cash they brought in the duffel bag was their only security and he knew it'd run out one day, sooner than he'd hope.

As soon as they arrived in the new city, many hours away from where they were running from, it looked bad. Kyle was losing himself in the legal side of things, as much as he planned, he didn't know where to start. The first few nights they stayed in a motel and as bad as it sounded at first, Stan couldn't be more glad he spent the time with Kyle and no one else. 

They ran into a few issues, from their ID cards to driving licenses, passports. It almost seemed like they'd be busted a few times but they always slipped just by. Their apartment seemed like an even bigger issue but this time, Stan skimmed through the contracts and agreements, using whatever experience his old work provided. If it weren't for him and his golden tongue and legal knowledge, they wouldn't have a place to sleep. But he found so many holes in the landlord's contracts, he knew it was easier to just let them rent the place.

It was empty, dull. Blinding white walls and practically no furniture. They slept on a mattress on the floor for the first few weeks. But waking up in Kyle's arms made it so much better, made falling asleep so much easier. 

He never had a soulmate in his life. And when he found one, he realized this is what's been missing. He never had someone he could trust completely, who completed him, as cliché as that sounds. Every time they bid their goodbyes, he'd look forward to meeting him again. Every time they had a fight, it'd end in an embrace. He loved him. He loved Kyle. They've always been soulmates. But love came later.

Even if things weren't ideal, they were always looking up. Everything seemed like it might just work. And years later, he realized all the fighting was worth it. Things were so much different than before, when he worked at the TV station. He and Kyle spoke about their past lives a lot. It was nice to listen to him, to his stories. As messed up as their first encounters were, both were glad the universe has its ways of showing you the way.

He tapped his fingers on the table, waiting for Kyle. His soulmate could see his eyes brighten as soon as he arrived. “Good job on that last one,” he kissed the top of his head, hearing about his last case. Stan managed to find his place in a small law firm, doing what he's always done the best. They managed to find a small group of friends, find their regular coffee shop, regular routes, their regular bench at the park. After years, it finally felt like they belonged there, as if this has always been their life. But they didn't feel like they were pretending, it was just a new chapter of their life. A chapter they started together, soulmates hand in hand. 

Kyle grabbed a bottle of liquor from the cabinet, pouring some into both their coffees. They deserved it, after a few long weeks of working mindlessly. Stan couldn't hide the smile, it felt like a bad joke. He knew Kyle well enough to know it was, in fact, a terrible joke. “I hope you're not trying to poison me.” 

“I couldn't if I tried,” Kyle giggled, sitting on the window sill. He could look at the sunset but looking at Stan was way better. His heart fluttered when his soulmate looked up at him, giving him the most innocent smile. He whispered a quiet ‘I love you’ before observing the last bits of sunshine for the day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank y'all for reading! be sure to let me know what you thought also don't come at me for the ending, my brain finally wanted a happy end yknow yknow


	9. A Few Loose Screws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They just build a shelve.  
Kinda dumb, kinda fun.

**A Few Loose Screws**

“Kyle, what did you do?”

“Bought a new closet?” Kyle rolled his eyes, trying his hardest to keep the boxes from falling to the ground.

“I see. And why am I here?” Stan interrogated his roommate, stepping side to side in the freezing weather. He knew something was up when Kyle urgently called him down from their apartment. He should've worn a hoodie, or at least a shirt. 

“Because it's too heavy to carry up!” Kyle whined, the largest box dangerously slipping off the floor. They were neatly stacked by the wall, Kyle not even sure how he managed to even drag the flat boxes inside. He never counted on the closet being this heavy. If he knew, he'd just keep his clothes thrown around the room, just as they were now. God knows how long it'll take them to assembly the whole thing.

Stan couldn't hide the disappointment in his face when he lifted one of the boxes, no problem, carrying it up to the elevator. “Bro, do you... even lift?”

“You know, suddenly, I'd rather drag these up and rip off my hands than listen to your jokes.”

Stan dragged the last piece out of the box, looking at the mess they made. He tried to ignore the ripped cardboard boxes and polystyrene granules. He was worried he'd have to be the one cleaning it up. Kyle wasn't even in the room, as it was suspiciously quiet. Stan was ready to leave the deconstructed closet on the ground, looking for an escape route. The room was such a mess, he suddenly understood why his roommate needed another closet. 

But Kyle stopped him dead in his tracks, blocking the doorway. He held his speaker in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. “This is the only one I found.”

“We have... one screwdriver.”

“I'm a college student, not Bob the Builder.”

Kyle defeatedly laid on the closet doors that were put on the floor, banging the screws in with the back of his screwdriver. It was hard enough trying to screw them in with a tool that was too big, let enough see if they're going in straight. They weren't. “Dude, I can't even screw!” he cried out, throwing the tool away dramatically. 

“Your ex would beg to differ.”

“Shut up.”

“I wish you two would've shut up. When my professor asked about the reduction in income tax revenues during a recession, I almost said ‘Kyle, faster.’ because that's what I've been hearing the. Whole. Damn. Night.” Stan slapped his roommate's hand away from his fruit salad he took the time to prepare while Kyle struggled to even pick up the separate parts of his closet. He wasn't nowhere near done scolding him for almost making him fail his class. 

“There's no way you heard that from my room.”

“No, I heard that from the main room, you pigs.”

“Give me a bite,” Kyle reached for Stan's bowl again, only to be slapped away one more time. 

“There is no bite. Because you don't deserve a bite. Work on your closet, you ding-dong.”

“Would you just hold it up?” Kyle tried to fit the backside of his closet into the crack it was originally supposed to go into but kept slipping out of. He wondered who wrote these directions. Somehow, Lego directions seemed clearer and easier and he'd appreciate if that were the case here too. Stan was having a hard time holding the heavy shelve up, trying to put in all the screws and nut, a difficult task to be done with just one hand. He had the screwdriver in his pocket, poking him in his leg the whole time. The screws were rolling in his hand, some of them falling on the ground with an unpleasant clink. 

“I'm trying,” he hissed, looking to see if his friend already managed to finish his side. He didn't, no surprise there. What surprised him was the slew of curses that left Kyle's mouth when the shelve he was trying to secure slipped, hitting his friend on the head with just the right angle. It fell on the ground, Kyle holding his head just where the shelve hit him, precisely with its edge. 

Stan was worried he might pass out for a second, grabbing his friend and navigating him to his bed. “Are... you okay?”

“I'm not bleeding, so that's cool,” he whined, wrapping a pillow around his head. He was almost sure he didn't have a concussion. But Stan was still worried enough he decided to go make him a fruit bowl too. 

“Dude?”

“Yeah?”

“If it's always mango, when does it ever come back?”

“Pack your shit and leave.”

“The door doesn't fit.”

“What?” Kyle worriedly hurried over, leaving the shelve he was working on on the floor. He looked at the hinges and doorframe, seeing it didn't sit quite right. “Did you try to push it?”

“Yeah.”

“Kick it?”

“Yeah.”

“Pull?”

“I've tried to bop it, twist it, flick it and nothing works!” The bottom part wasn't sitting right and while it wasn't a problem, he had made a spiritual connection to his friend's closet and he didn't want to leave it like that. “Can you get inside?”

“The closet?”

“Yeah, we'll try to figure it out.”

Kyle fit himself into the closet, watching Stan close the door and navigate him on what to do. Unscrew this. Hold this. Push here, bring this up. He thought he'd give up and just have his clothes in a mess like he used to. 

But then finally, after a torturous half an hour of trying, the door clicked and closed perfectly. “Okay dude, you can open them now.”

“I'm trying.” Stan sounded worried, pulling on the handle. The door wouldn't budge. He thought he screwed his friend in, pulling on the handle but it wouldn't move a centimeter. He was worried if he'd pull a little more, the whole construction would fall apart. 

“You can't open it?”

“No!”

“I spent three years coming out of the closet and you put me back in just like that, huh?” Kyle yelled out, trying to push the door open from the inside. 

“How long has it been?”

“Four hours since we started,” he checked the time on his phone, noticing it's almost close to midnight. They both laid on the floor, using the last bits of energy to keep their body systems functioning. At least that's what Stan was doing, Kyle repeating the same song on his speaker over and over.

“We've listened to Barracuda seven times in 30 minutes, my dude.”

“And I still haven't hit ‘Barracuda’ at the right time,” Kyle argued, repeating the same song over. 

“Listen, you fiddly-diddly bitch, if I have to listen to th-” Stan heard the guitar riffs start one more time and wondered it packing Kyle in the box he brought the closet in and returning him to the shop could work after all. 

“Do you think our lives have a meaning?”

“It's too early for an existential crisis, man.”

“I'll wait.”

“I can't believe we've done it.”

“This took years off my life,” Kyle groaned, putting his hoodies onto hangers. Stan laid on his bed, refusing to even move a finger. He couldn't believe how much softer his bed was, it was like laying on a bed of feathers. Or maybe it was because he was so exhausted. 

“Hey, how many screws should we have left?” Stan scrambled for the papers, looking through all seven of them while Kyle counted the screws and nuts left. 

“Five.”

“I have six.”


	10. Wish Upon a Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you wish for the dumbest things.

ngl i tried to pack in as many cliches from fics as i could think of but i still feel like im forgetting so many! if there's some that i've missed let me know lmao i'd like to have a good laugh (or a cry)

**Wish Upon a Star**

“It's getting so cold,” Kyle whined, pulling his blanket closer. He didn't know why they hadn't left the balcony yet, going inside where it's warmer and lighter and there are snacks. But Kenny wanted to stay outside and watch the stars, convincing Kyle that it's the last chance he'll get this year. He had to admit, the stars were shining brighter than usual. Or maybe those were satellites, who knows.

“Oh look, it's a shooting star!” Kenny excitedly pointed up, his finger following the moving light. “Make a wish!”

Kyle laughed to himself. I wish my life was more like a story.

  
*

  
Kyle couldn't believe he had to stand one more hour of this. He ran through his notes, checking if he has everything ready before his lecture starts. He waited for Kenny to arrive and occupy the place next to him, acting as his moral support. He hasn't seen his friend since the first period and they skipped that one on the roof, enjoying the last rays of sunlight. 

“Dude, took you long enough,” he laughed when he heard a bag get thrown on the table. He knew without a doubt it was his friend, he could tell by the annoying sigh he let out, having to sit in the god-awful seminar. 

“I was contemplating even coming here.”

“And you'd leave me alone in here?” Kyle acted hurt, grabbing his heart. He already heard the voice coming from behind him, not even giving Kenny the usual look. His friend knew he couldn't stand him. His voice, his face, his jokes, his remarks. God, it was awful.

  
*

  
“Can you believe he paired me up with him?” Kyle yelled quietly on his way home with Kenny, throwing his hands around as he explained his deepest feeling to Kenny, even though he's been in the same class as him for 4 years and knew exactly what was going on. Kyle was rambling on about how their professor paired him up with Stan for the project, knowing damn well they can't even look at each other. It wouldn't have been the end of the world, hadn't it been that it was more than half of their final grade. Kenny desperately needed to pass the class, knowing the grade could be crucial for the internship he was aiming for. The best one gets it and he wouldn't let anything get in his way. Except for his percentage. It wasn't that he didn't study or didn't attend the lectures, in fact, he had his stuff right and the professor knew it. It's just that his assignments were always late, best case scenario. Or non-existent. 

He'd be happy to work on it alone. He'd prefer it, he'd beam like a ray of light if that were the case. In fact, he did suggest this game plan to Stan right after the class ended. But, the boy keeping his head high, refused. He said he won't work on the project alone and wouldn't let Kyle work on it alone either. He went on about how they could bounce ideas off of each other and two minds are better than one but at that point, Kyle had to turn off his brain functions. Otherwise, he'd turn around and leave right that moment, giving Stan the satisfaction of having the upper hand once again, seeing him storm off. 

“I just can't believe I'll have to see his face even when I'm not in school,” Kyle whined, opening his front door and letting himself and his friend in. They've lived in the same dorm since they started college, lucky to each have their own room. 

“I'll come to see you in prison if your nerves finally snap,” Kenny laughed, throwing his belongings onto his bed, checking to see if Kyle has broken down yet or not. 

“It's not if, it's when.”

Kenny never had a problem with Stan, they were on good terms. Being in the same sports teams, having classes together, they never had an issue with each other. He seemed like a pretty cool guy.

But ever since he could remember, Kyle always despised Stan for some reason. He could never get it out of him. Whenever he asked, whatever would come out of Kyle were incoherent sentences and groans. Kenny was convinced even Kyle didn't know why he disliked the boy. Stan didn't seem to be too keen on Kyle either. The further they kept from each other, the better it worked out for all of them.

  
“So how will you work it out?” Kenny tried to dig up some information, boiling water for some tea while Kyle prepared their dinner. Kenny felt incredibly lucky to be living with Kyle, an enthusiastic cook. He wasn't quite sure how he'd survive college without the magic he did behind the stove. 

“I have no idea,” Kyle mumbled, cutting the onions even more aggressively. “I guess we'll meet up at the library or whatever. I think he mentioned he wants to meet today at... sometime in the evening.”

“Oh, a library date,” Kenny teased his roommate, nudging him with an elbow. “You didn't catch the time?”

“I didn't plan on going,” Kyle clarified, scooping the diced veggies into a hot pan. “It's not a date, though.”

“Your internship's on the line, though.”

“I know! God, life's cruel.” Kyle mindlessly stirred everything together, giving Kenny the saddest look he's seen in years. “I suppose I really have to go to the library, huh?”

The dinner was the best part of their day, as usual. Kyle tried not to think about what's about to follow, but it was inevitable. He packed his laptop and notes, some snacks and his library card. If it were finals season, he'd be practically living there. Thankfully, the year had only begun and they were just getting started. Kenny couldn't resist teasing Kyle a little more. “Good luck on your date, dude.”

“It's not a date!”

  
*

  
Kyle checked out all the books he needed for the project, looking for a quiet place to sit. Stan hasn't arrived yet, giving his partner some time to breathe and mentally prepare himself. He appreciated him not being there but not him arriving late. “You're late,” Kyle barely looked up from his laptop. He was well aware he didn't actually know when they were supposed to meet.

“Yeah, sorry, stopped on my way to get some coffee. It seems like a long night.”

“Oh, that's great.”

“Got you some too,” he added with an arrogant smile, knowing Kyle would be bitter over him coming late, even if it was because of him doing something nice. He knew he shouldn't have bothered but a little voice irked him to order one for his partner too. A small part of him regretted it, seeing Kyle's eyes run in confusion from the cup to him and back. “I knew we'd be here late.”

It still didn't convince Kyle. “Come on, it's not poisoned,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing his own cup and setting his belongings on the table. “So. Where do we start.”

“I thought you'd know.”

“I figured you'd sucked up to the professors enough for them to give you a headstart,” Stan shot back, annoyed by Kyle's stand-offish attitude. They've been working together for 20 minutes and he's already being a headache. 

“Oh, sure. Maybe I'd get the chance if you removed your head from their asses for once. But I'm sure they like you for your jolly personality, don't they?” Kyle mumbled, eyes fixated on his laptop screen. He hasn't stopped typing since the whole conversation started. 

Stan didn't know what Kyle's issue with him was. But he sure knew why he didn't like Kyle but he'd rather not unpack all that baggage, rather throw the whole suitcase away. With gripped teeth and his mind set on the prize, he had to convince himself to not leave immediately. The project was important to him and Stan wouldn't let Kyle ruin his grade for him. He's worked on it hard enough the whole year. 

Just looking at Kyle's face annoyed him. And how loudly he typed on his laptop. And how loudly he drank his coffee. He never even said thank you. Or the questioning, irritating look he gave him whenever he looked up from the book. “Don't you want to start working?”

“Figured I'd make an outline first.”

“And that takes you an hour?”

“Well, maybe if you weren't so secretive about your notes, we could move on forward quicker.”

“I see. Good luck with your outline.”

  
It was almost time the library closed. Kyle was packing up his laptop and his notes, picking up the books he borrowed to return them to their original place. He barely managed to hold the stash, clumsily turning around just to bump into Stan who was standing right behind him, packing his own stuff. The books flew on the ground, both boys bending down to pick them up. “I-I'm sorry,” Stan mumbled, grabbing whatever book he could reach. Their hands accidentally touched while reaching for the last book. Their eyes met and Stan could've sworn a saw a spark fly. Both boys quickly retracted their hands, acting as if nothing had happened. 

  
*

  
Kyle didn't even think about standing up and going to the coffee shop where he was supposed to meet with Stan. It's been a week since the library disaster and he still hasn't looked at him in class. He couldn't. A vein would burst somewhere in his body.

“You'll be late for your study date.” Kenny crumpled up a piece of paper, seeing his calculations weren't correct and threw it at Kyle. He's been doing it for the past hour, every time he didn't get the right answer and Kyle ended up lying in a mess of papers with incorrect math problems. 

“It's not a date!” Kyle yelled into the pillow, digging himself deeper under the covers. He intended to take a nap but Kenny's constant bickering kept him up. He was always this fussy when he couldn't figure out a math equation. 

“Get ready for your rendezvous, kitten. You're probably late anyway.”

“God, I can't even look him in the eyes.”

“You mean his magical orbs?”

“Shut up!”

Kyle dragged his tired self out of his bed, looking around the room to find his pants. He couldn't believe he was actually going out to work on the stupid project. They still had a few weeks left and he wanted to spend as little time with Stan as he could. The project was still in its early beginnings but in the end, he did send Stan his notes from last week. Of course, Stan didn't have anything nice to say about them, criticizing every word Kyle typed. He sent him his outline, what he wanted to work on and all the important points in their presentation. Kyle took it as his responsibility to find everything wrong with it. 

After texting back and forth until three AM, they were both finally content with each other's notes and preparations. If it were anyone else, Kyle would just let it slide. But since he was working on the project with Stan, he had the unexplainable need to work on everything as hard as he could so it'd be better than Stan's. He had something to prove to himself. He had to show himself he's better than him. 

“I'm doing this out of spite,” he warned Kenny, grabbing his keys and the messy notes from the library. 

  
Kyle couldn't believe he arrived an hour late and Stan still wasn't there. He contemplated texting him but scrapped the idea as soon as he saw the cakes they served in the coffee shop. He felt a little less angry when he sat down with a cup of hot, foamy coffee and some carrot cake, he couldn't get over the little fondant carrot on top. 

“What's up.”

“Hi,” he dreamily sighed, flipping through a book he brought form the library. It was the first time he didn't glare at his poor rival. Kyle didn't even scold him for arriving late or demand an explanation. Maybe it was the lack of afternoon sleep getting to him. Stan didn't waste a second, too energized for Kyle's liking. As soon as he sat down, he pulled out resources and other useful literature, only stopping his lecture when ordering. Kyle barely noticed Stan ordered the same as him.

“And that's why we should end with this graph,” Stan ran the end of his pencil from one paper to the book and back, underlining the chapter's title. Kyle nodded, absent-mindedly staring at the book.

Kyle tried to pay attention but his brain just wasn't co-operating. He held his face in his palms, blankly staring at the book. But the whole time, Stan's phone was distracting him. It wasn't even on silent and it lit up every few minutes. Kyle thought he'd take it and throw it out of the nearest window. “Could you maybe... put your phone on silent?”

“Oh, sure, sorry. Friday afternoon, you know how it is,” Stan laughed, taking his time to reply to some of his friends. Kyle sighed. Did he know? The only message he received during their study session was Kenny informing him he'd eaten his sweets because he burned the dinner and was sad. Didn't even offer a ride home. ‘God, am I the nerd in this relationship?’ ran through Kyle's mind, seeing Stan still hasn't put his phone down.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure, why?”

“You haven't argued with me for a good hour.” Kyle thought Stan was just kidding him but the kid was serious. Seeing Kyle agree and nod to almost all the things he suggested and came up with was the strangest. 

“I mean, we have to change the color of the background,” he sighed, poking his fork into the little carrot he was saving for the end. 

“Dude, you ate my carrot. I was saving that for last,” Stan whined and just then Kyle actually looked up from the book and their presentation to see he's been stirring the wrong coffee the whole time and now Stan's carrot was gone. 

“Shoot, I'm sorry,” Kyle took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, explaining to Stan how tired he is. He looked up, seeing Stan hasn't taken his eyes off of him yet. The blood rushed up to his cheeks too fast, he swiftly put his glasses back on because he couldn't see anything otherwise. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, I just... haven't seen you without glasses,” Stan smiled, poking his fork into Kyle's carrot cake for compensation.

“I literally look the same without glasses.”

“No, I know, it's just-”

“I just can't read anything without them. Dude, I even wear contacts sometimes,” Kyle continued, feeling some type of way about Stan's glasses comment. In response, he barely rolled his eyes, seeing Kyle's back to his old energetic self. 

  
*

  
Stan hated leaving his friends' dorms this late. But their study sessions took way longer than expected, with going out to eat and watching a movie and all. He fished out his umbrella out of his backpack, seeing it's about to rain. It was getting dark so quickly, he hoped he won't get lost on his way home.

He turned the corner and passed a familiar face, sitting on the little railing by the park near his dormitory. “Kyle?”

“Oh, hi,” the boy looked up with surprise in his face, wrapping his jacket closer to his body. Stan was getting worried about the way he was shivering. He stopped himself, thinking twice over whether he actually worried about him. 

“What are you doing out here? Aren't you worried it's going to rain?” Stan pried out of Kyle, feeling the first few drops fall on his head. 

“No, I felt too dry, actually,” Kyle shot back, rolling his eyes. When he saw Stan's annoyed look, he got worried he might just leave and began explaining his whole journey. He got back from school, Kenny's gone for some days, he locked himself out in the morning, his phone died and the doorbells in their dormitory haven't worked since...well, forever. 

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have anywhere to go?”

“If I did, I wouldn't be waiting out here at night,” he sighed, pulling his backpack closer. Stan considered his options, looking up to see if anyone's light is still on. Even though it was fairly early for college students to go to sleep, very few lights were on and what was worse, no one he knew. What now, what now. 

“You can come... over to my place,” Stan suggested, assuming it's the right decision to make. He wasn't sure at first but seeing a little spark in Kyle's eyes convinced him. Or at least he thought he was it. It was hard to see in these park lights.

“No, it's okay,” Kyle assured him, a part of him hoping he'd go away and a part of him hoping he'd ask one more time. 

“Kyle.”

It started to rain. Stan pulled out his umbrella but knowing Kyle, he didn't even own one. He felt the cold rainfall on him, his hair getting too wet for his liking. “I... don't want to trouble you with tha-”

“Come on. Where else would you go?”

“I'll figure something out,” Kyle looked everywhere around, avoiding eye contact with Stan. His heart gave a tiny squeeze when he suggested going to his place and saving him from this dreadful weather but something about it just didn't feel right. Would he do the same if roles were reversed? Would he be the savior in this situation? He knew once he saw some humility in Stan, he knew he'd help him in a whim. 

“You won't. Come on, before you get sick,” Stan sighed, grabbing Kyle's wrist and pulling him closer before he managed to excuse himself and leave. He tried to squeeze him under the umbrella too, seeing he's already wet enough. His own jacket was getting wet but for some reason, he didn't care. Kyle muttered a quiet thank you, head hung down low. This was never a position he wanted to be in. 

  
“God, you got wet,” Stan laughed, taking his partner's soaked jacket. He just stood in the hall, looking around the empty flat like a lost kitten. He was unsure whether he should take off his shoes and come in or... or what. 

“Come on, we can work on our project.” Stan navigated him into his room, disappearing in what Kyle assumed was the kitchen. Never in his dreams, he thought he'd end up in Stan's room tonight. He felt so awkward, didn't know if he should sit on the bed or the chair or where to put his things. He left his snappy attitude out in the rain. 

Stan came back with two steaming cups, handing one to Kyle. Even he was surprised but decided not to question Stan's change in attitude. Kyle's wet shirt was sticking to him, feeling so cold he started to shiver and Stan seemed to notice, digging in his closet and throwing him a dry shirt. “I'm not going to present the project alone if you get sick. Get changed.”

  
“But I need to do more research then,” Kyle whined, rolled over on his back, feeling papers crinkle underneath him. They were everywhere around them, scribbled with notes and numbers and sources, graphs and arrows Stan could never make sense of. He pulled a pillow closer, laying down on it. It was late but neither wanted to check the clock, a little afraid to see how long they've been working for. 

Kyle had to convince himself to keep his eyes open, Stan's bed was just too comfortable. And pretty big, considering they were both laying on it, along with their laptops, notes, baby carrots and there was still more than enough space between them. He wondered where he'd sleep, maybe in the living room. But both boys were set on finishing up a major part of their project, not letting sleep get in their way. 

“If someone mentions ‘Customer behavior prediction’ to me, I swear I'll hurt them,” Stan angrily typed in numbers into his laptop, already sick of their assignment. Not only did he have to do it with Kyle who, as it turns out, was not the worst part of this, but it was also so important, yet so boring. He knew how well it'd look on his resume, but at what price? “My graph's not working.”

“What?”

“The freaking graph I spent the last two hours on is not working!” Stan tapped his laptop's screen a few times, wishing for it to work. He knew it wouldn't help, just as clicking his mouse a hundred times or pressing the spacebar didn't help either. “Come check it out.”

With the last bits of energy, Kyle crawled to Stan, dropping himself on his pillow. He turned the laptop to himself, trying a few tricks that might help. His eyes were closing unwillingly, he woke up from microsleep a few times. Both boys were too tired to talk, instead, Stan let him work silently while he took a short mental break. Kyle couldn't concentrate on the numbers and letters anymore, unwillingly letting himself fall asleep.

  
Beep, beep, beep. Kyle has never heard a more annoying sound. He reached out to turn his alarm off, not finding his phone where it usually is. He managed to open his eyes, looking at his night table only to notice it wasn't there. Neither was his bed or his room, Kyle looking around the place disoriented. Then it hit him, realizing he's in Stan's room, spent the night on his bed. 

Kyle wanted to sit up, a weight on his other arm stopping him from doing so. He inspected it, Stan asleep on his shoulder making his arm fall asleep. “Oh God,” escaped his lips before he noticed how peaceful he actually looked. He was finally bearable for a few moments. 

Kyle turned off his alarm, careful not to wake Stan up. Thankfully, he was a heavy sleeper, only squirming a little when Kyle managed to free his arm. But Kyle was now stuck, not really sure what to do. Stan was still asleep and it would be rude to just go around his house. But they had a lecture in about half an hour. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Wake up, dude,” he shook Stan gently, only for him to frown and turn to the other side. “We've got class, pumpkin.”

“Wha- Oh God, oh God, did we fall asleep?” Stan was wide awake, shooting up from his bed. He was already digging through his closet, grabbing whatever he could find to go change. They had practically no time and with Stan's sleeping habits, he knew he'd be in trouble if he came late again. 

Kyle collected his belongings, stuffing them in his backpack while Stan ran around the flat looking for granola bars and his jacket and keys. “I can never find anything!” he yelled to himself, turning his room upside down to find his perfume. Kyle was in close enough proximity to catch most of the spritzes, feeling as if his lungs are going to grow legs and leave because this amount of fragrance can not be healthy. 

“Breakfast,” he handed Kyle a strawberry granola bar while he fiddled with his keys. 

“God, you take better care of me than I do.”

  
“Oh my, what happened to you?” Kenny scanned Kyle from top to bottom, taking notes of his messy hair and a wrinkled shirt that surely wasn't his and the bar that he was eating. 

“When did you come last night?” 

“At around one but- You weren't home,” Kenny remembered last night, coming home from a trip but it never seemed strange to him their dorm was empty. “You're eating breakfast?”

“Sure,” Kyle took off his jacket and sorted his belongings. He was feeling too hot, running into class with Stan.

“What happened? And... Is- Is that Stan's shirt?” Kenny exclaimed with great surprise, tugging on the cloth. Kyle didn't answer but as he sat down, Kenny caught a whiff of the cologne he was practically drenched in, recognizing it immediately from when he and Stan used to go to the gym together. “Shitting hell, is this how you spend your nights when I'm not home? You sly fox!” Kenny teased his friend, always in it for the reaction. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You're wearing Stan's shirt! And his perfume! And the bed hair!” Kenny ruffled his hair some more. Kyle wanted to give him a piece of his mind and explain the situation but never got the chance, their professor coming in. “Hope you enjoyed the date.”

“It wasn't a date!”

  
*

  
Kenny offered to help Kyle with lunch prep for the next few weeks but Kyle regretted ever agreeing, seeing how Kenny was cutting the garlic. But he welcomed the change for a minute, sitting up on the counter to order his roommate around. “How's the project going?”

“Cool, we're like... halfway through,” Kyle sighed, stealing bites of Kenny's cut-up veggies until he slapped his hand away. Kenny wasn't convinced, seeing something isn't right with his roommate. He wasn't his usual self, just staring into the wall, lost in his own thoughts. Kenny noticed he's been like that the past few days. He wouldn't be worried if that weren't the case with Stan too. He hasn't been able to talk to him properly, he always seemed so lost in his own thoughts too. 

“And how are you doing?”

“Cool.”

“You're not doing cool. I know you.”

“No, I'm...” Kyle stopped mid-sentence, looking at the sizzling pan. What was he going to say? He wasn't sure what was wrong with him. The last weeks have been so strange and the only person he could blame it on was Stan. Every time he thought of him, his stomach turned in this weird cramp and he loathed going to their study sessions even more than before, even though he knew they'd end up well. He knew he'd enjoy it. And that's what scared him. He didn't have the kind of aversion towards Stan anymore. It vanished too soon for his liking. He didn't know where it went or what made it go away, but it scared him. It was strange, so strange.

“Is it Stan?”

“What? No, it-”

“It's Stan, dude,” Kenny assured his friend, putting the lid back on the pan. Their dinner wasn't so important now. Kenny was dead set on getting Kyle to talk about what's on his mind. “Here,” he handed him his bottle of beer, hoping maybe it'll make him talk. He knew if he didn't make him speak about it, no one will and it'll just bother him until the end of time because he has trouble speaking about his feelings.

Kyle sighed deeply, spinning the bottle in his hand. It was Stan. “It's just weird.”

“What's weird?”

“I don't know, okay? It's like I still dislike him but I also look forward to our da-... When we hang out and work on the project. Dude, I couldn't even look at him in the beginning, because it's... it's Stan. And now, we have inside jokes and shit! I don't like the fact that I like to spend time with him, it just... makes no sense, you know?”

“Why did you even resent him in the first place?”

“I don't know, you didn't? I mean he's not like a... shitty person, but something about him just...”

“Couldn't it be that maybe he's doing better than you right now?” Kenny grabbed the bottle back, seeing it's about to be a long night. “I know how you are when we have lectures. You don't let them see, but you're a fucking brain. You know everything, dude.”

“Not everything.”

“Yeah, what you don't know, Stan does. Dude, you could cut the tension between you two when you disagree in class. Kid's just putting in more work than you are right now. That's why he gets better percentages, if you didn't forget every other assignment, you'd be doing just as well. You nerd.”

“I'm not a nerd, okay? I was always just good with numbers. That was like my one thing and now he comes and every time he corrects me it's just... If it were anyone else! I just hate how he is during those lectures, God, speaking like he's on a radio show. And then there's the internship! They told us whoever has the highest grade will get it! And I'm against that asswipe now! I could be walking around in a suit in a glass cubicle now if it weren't for him, climbing up to my grade. I deserve the internship and you know it, I've worked my ass off this year for it.”

“And so did he, and you know that. But you're warming up to him now, right?” Kyle rolled his eyes, walking over to the fridge to get his own bottle. This wasn't a conversation he was ready for. Yeah, he is. But their rivalry was such a big part of their relationship, he didn't like it was going away now. It was starting to feel like something was missing. Maybe he even liked the rivalry, and now he doesn't even have a reason to glare at Stan whenever he gets the chance. He didn't like that he was now enjoying their time together, that he didn't mind being corrected or to correct. The internship part was still a touchy subject for him. Kenny knew that he really wanted it, seeing it as a great headstart. Everything was in his favor until Stan showed up, as goal-driven as ever and Kyle's efforts were now in danger. “He's not a bad kid.”

“He isn't!” Kyle agreed, popping the cap off the bottle. “But I've spent so much time not even being able to stand next to him, doing that project and seeing we have a lot to talk about and... and it going so well and everything... it's so weird, man.” 

“So when you borrowed my car last night, it was because of Stan?” Kenny teased, wondering whether he'd be able to get more information out of Kyle.

“I wasn't sneaking out. He needed a ride home from the party, okay?”

“So you're his safety contact?”

“God, I hope not. I mean... You want to hear something?” Kenny grabbed a chair, knowing Kyle won't shut up for a while now. He was ready.

“Sure.“

“Last night, I was over at his place. And he passed this mirror and he had the nerve to say ‘I can't believe I've looked like this the whole day.’ Can he see properly?”

“Did he look great?”

“He always does! I don't get how his hair stays in place like that.”

“And did you tell him?”

“Well, sure I did,” Kyle defended himself, flailing his arms around. “How are you going to go around with dewy skin like that, telling people you're a mess? He does it so often too! And!”

“And?”

“And I went to pick him up yesterday. And his friends all gave me really weird looks, the whole time he was getting ready because I had to go get him up into the apartment because he was trashed. Dude, I'm the nerd friend!”

“You're both nerds.”

“I wear glasses!”

“Oh sure, I should've guessed it was you who was bringing down my street cred. And he's... a bad boy? A Chad? A jock?”

“You know he is. All of those! You go to the gym with him!”

“How come you've never called me a jock? I can lift more than he can! I mean, well, he can handle more pushups but my dude can not handle his alcohol.”

“Sure. Figured when I had to stroke his back while he threw up by the road.”

“Oh, you two are awfully cliché. If I didn't know better, I would've said it's like a sappy romantic comedy.” If Kyle didn't know any better, he would've blamed this whole situation on the falling star. 

He didn't even start about the parts where they went out for coffee and didn't even open the books and notes they brought, how they'd sometimes walk each other home. Or how he'd always text him to go to sleep, whenever they worked late on the project. How he'd always ask Stan about his day and he'd listen for half an hour but didn't mind a second of it He really was warming up to him. And it scared him, he wasn't ready to feel anything other than frustration when he was with him. But he did. 

  
*

“I'm so glad they made us take a few days off,” Kyle wiggled in his seat, watching the world pass by. The train was going through the woods and hills, early winter approaching. The clouds looked eerie, hanging low over the cold world. It hasn't snowed yet but it sure looked like it'll start any second.

Kyle was glad he brought a thicker jacket, ready to spend a few days in the mountains with his friends. The school sent them on a trip to unwind a little and work on their respective projects in a different location than the library or classrooms, in hopes it'd boost their creativity and energy. He was even excited about the workshops their professors prepared, even the lectures and seminars they planned to hold in their cabins. It'd be a nice change for a while. 

Kyle looked at the monitor above their heads, seeing their stop is approaching. He swiftly collected his belongings, seeing Kenny's still sitting in his seat. “You signed us into the same cabin, right?” Kenny wanted to be assured he wouldn't be spending the days with someone he couldn't handle. But Kenny wasn't quick to agree, giving Kyle a guilty look. Kyle was concerned. 

“You remember the astronomy class I'm taking this year because I had a few blank spaces between my lectures?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, we're going higher into the mountains because it's supposed to be really nice these days and we'd see the stars and constellations better,” he spat out of himself quickly, a little afraid of Kyle's reaction. His friend just stared at him with blank eyes, processing the info.

“You're... not staying with me?”

“No?”

“When did you want to tell me?” he quietly yelled at him, putting on his jacket. He couldn't believe he told him just now, minutes before the train stopped. At this point, he was more worried about who he's going to be staying with than anything else. Kenny muttered a quiet apology but Kyle just wished him a nice stay before exiting the train. 

He carried his duffel bag with him up the trail, talking to whoever was around. Thankfully, he had a few other friends around. They arrived at the base soon enough, learning their cabins are spread pretty far away from each other. There were no signs of civilization, only a few sparse houses you could see downhill from their place of stay. The trees blocked the view of anything else, guarding the hills against the outside world. It got so much colder as they hiked up, the ashy clouds dropping even lower. 

In the meantime, Kyle tried to figure out what the cabin situation was like. From what he could gather, everyone else was paired up, in couples or threesomes. Maybe he'd have one for himself. That would be ideal. 

The cabin keys were being handed out, people gradually dispersing into their cabins. Kyle looked around, his stomach twisting in a familiar knot when he saw Stan standing nearby, his bag between his legs, eyes on his phone. He probably didn't notice him. Kyle wished it'd stay that way and he'd quickly get paired with anyone. But there were fewer and fewer people, in the end only leaving two of them. The professor informed Kyle both of them weren't signed anywhere, leaving them together in the farthest cabin. It wasn't ideal. Actually, it was the worst-case scenario. Kyle gathered his bag and broke the news to Stan who still hasn't noticed they were the only ones left. 

“Kenny left you for the stars?” Stan laughed, dragging his belongings up to the cabin. They were both tired from the journey and making their way up the hill with luggage was hard enough on its own. 

“Sure did. Is Clyde there too?”

“Yeah,” Stan sighed, opening their cabin. It looked big enough, wood everywhere you looked. As soon as they stepped in and hung their jackets, both boys made their way into the nearest room, seeing there were a fireplace and a huge bed. The other room was missing just that extra touch of comfort. They stopped in their tracks, realizing they both have their eye on the room. 

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Sure.”

Stan set his belongings on the bed, looking around to see if there's any wood to set the fireplace up. He offered Kyle he'd go into the other room even though he won but the loser humbly accepted his defeat, taking the room across the hall. They were both near a small kitchen and a bathroom, practically everything they needed for a few days. They knew they'd be spending most of their time outside anyway, working on the project or workshops or taking in nature.

  
After an hour of setting up their cabin, they were called into the main building for their first lecture. It was a rocky road down there, but it was well worth it. Having a lecture by the fire with sweets and snacks wasn't too bad after all. It was the only place where they'd get an internet connection, using the time to work on their presentation some more. It was almost time to go back as it was getting dark. Kyle didn't want to admit it, but he kept close to Stan the whole way back, the woods getting pretty scary with the sun setting down. He even got to see the first few snowflakes of that winter. The clouds finally let go, snow falling gently on the hills and mountains. 

  
They thought the next day would be similar. Wake up, go down to the main building and work the whole day. Or maybe at least half of the day. The morning stroll down was pretty difficult, thanks to the freshly fallen snow. Their professors sent them up after working the whole morning, to get some lunch. Kyle came prepared, bringing his own gourmet cooking. But their workday ended there, receiving a message the blizzard got too strong, forcing them to stay inside. Kyle excitedly checked the outside, informing Stan they're snowed in. He was pretty sure he couldn't open the door without snow flowing in. 

It was still pretty early in the evening, both boys too awake to go to sleep. Kyle took it upon him to break the barriers, sitting on Stan's fluffy carpet while he searched the whole cabin for wood. He had to run outside to find the stash, remarking it's snowing quite heavily now. The wood was thankfully dry and now placed in the fireplace. 

“You've got fire?”

“Here,” Kyle threw his partner a lighter, receiving a funny look. “I'm not asking you why you have a corkscrew in here,” he teased Stan, watching him roll his eyes and light the fire. It crackled pleasantly, slowly warming up the room, Kyle could finally take off his hoodie. Stan sat next to him, both staring into the fire that illuminated the whole room. 

What started as small talk, grew into a conversation about anything and everything. Kyle lost track of time, lost in their words. Stan spoke so softly, Kyle couldn't get enough of his voice by the fire. After he stopped for a while, he turned to Kyle and asked if he's up for a drink. Kyle agreed, nothing else to do in the cabin. 

Stan was gone for a while, Kyle leaning back on his arms. The fire was getting too hot now. He wondered when it'll die down. 

The past weeks have been weird. He tracked it back to when it all started, remembering sitting on the balcony with Kenny the night before he was assigned the project. He remembered the shooting star and his wish and as stupid as it sounded, a little part of him believed his wish might've become true. Though not in a way he wanted or anticipated. He laughed to himself. The way it was going, he was worried it might end up like some romantic teenage story.

His mind stopped working for a second, realizing what he said. They might end up like a romantic teenage story. Romantic story. He cursed every neuron that passed this thought around, denying he meant it like that. He didn't, of course, he didn't. Did... Stan even... His mind was riddled with thoughts if Stan could even see this as anything more but he swiftly shunned those thoughts, worried where they came from. It's probably the amount of oxygen in the air. He wasn't feeling well, the ideas awakening something uneasy in him. It was the silence, that made it so awkward now, even though Stan was still struggling with the bottle in the kitchen. 

Kyle didn't waste a second, running to his room for a speaker he brought. Some music might help, he convinced himself. When he came back, a song already playing, Stan was back with two teacups filled with what looked like wine. 

“I couldn't find any other glasses,” he laughed setting them on the table, next to the speaker. Kyle stood next to him, skipping through some songs until he landed on one they both enjoyed. They both loved it, as he learned days ago during one of their study sessions. He saw a huge smile appear on Stan's face, both boys singing the first verses. Kyle couldn't deny the smile did something to him. He couldn't help but smile back. 

Stan did waste a second, moving into the rhythm and letting loose. Soon enough he was prancing around the room living out every word of the song. It was so sweet, seeing him enjoy the tunes so much. Stan walked over to Kyle, grabbing his hands to get him into the groove but tripped over his open suitcase, dragging both of them down on the bed. He caught himself on his arms, finding Kyle pinned beneath him. No one was hurt but both were still collecting their minds over what has happened. This was close, closer than they ever wanted to be, or so they tried to convince themselves. 

Stan held himself up on his elbows, staring right into Kyle's big eyes. He tried to look away, move further, but couldn't. He felt the blood rush into his cheeks but something about having Kyle this close made him want to move even closer. But Kyle didn't seem to move away either. Stan swore he saw his eyes move from his, down his nose, right to his lips. It was almost a reflex, Stan closing his eyes and leaning in closer, only to be disturbed by another song starting. 

The loud basses ruined the moment, Stan jumping in surprise. It made him come to his senses, standing up and getting the teacups, promptly taking a sip to calm his beating heart. Kyle looked equally flustered, he handed him his cup. He was glad Kyle wasn't starting any conversation, his thoughts all over the place to form a sentence. It wasn't long before Kyle excused himself, saying he's too tired and going to sleep.

Stan spent the night turning from side to side. He couldn't take his mind off the little incident. It wouldn't have been a big deal if his heart didn't go absolutely insane the moment he was on top of Kyle. And God, if he didn't try to kiss him, what was up with that? He hoped it somehow slipped Kyle's attention. 

Stan laid on his side, watching the snow fall and fall, it looked like it'd never stop. He knew he wouldn't fall asleep, instead, he went to the kitchen to get some water. To his surprise, the lights were on. He found Kyle by the table, with the same intentions as him. He sleepily greeted him, Stan finding it a little strange he was standing there with a hoodie on, the hood popped over his head. Kyle asked him to refill his drink and if it weren't for him being lazy, Stan would never brush his hand with Kyle's, noticing it was cold. “Dude, you're freezing.”

“It's fine.”

“No, it's not. Is your room this cold?” Stan didn't believe his partner, almost on his way to check his room. Kyle was quick to grab his hand, stopping him mid-track but Stan never let go of it, trying to warm him up a little but.

“It's kinda cold, no big deal,” he laughed, swirling the water in his cup. He looked at the water, not wanting to look into Stan's face. But Stan didn't believe a word he said, dismissing it as fine. He knew Kyle wouldn't get any sleep and it was bad enough he planned to stay awake the whole night. Something in Stan irked him to take care of Kyle, even though he said he didn't mind. He tried to convince him his room is warm enough, thanks to the fireplace burning the whole evening but Kyle claimed he didn't want to keep Stan awake the whole night, saying there's nowhere to sleep anyway. 

The bed is huge, Stan convinced him but he didn't take it anyway. He saw the flush in his cheeks. Kyle denied, saying he moves around in his sleep a lot. But Stan took it upon himself to not let him go back into his room that night, blocking the way out of the kitchen. If he can't convince him, he'll use force. Stan grabbed his partner's wrist, pulling him into his own room, no more questions asked. He closed the door, letting him know he isn't getting out.

A part of Kyle was glad he wasn't in a room that felt like an igloo but after the evening, he wasn't sure he'd fall asleep alone in a room, let alone sleeping next to Stan. But he was persistent, in the end, Kyle laying down and falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but not before putting pillows in between them, so they wouldn't end up in the same situation as last time. Just in case.

  
Stan didn't want to move a muscle when he woke up, instinctively pulling the person asleep on his arm closer. He didn't move away when he realized Kyle had his arm draped across his chest, peacefully sleeping next to him. A little voice was telling him to move away and pretend nothing happened. But he didn't, he didn't want to. Maybe it was the morning hazing his mind or the sheer delight of reality not settling in yet. Maybe it was the fact that he couldn't feel nor move his arm, thanks to Kyle laying on it. But he didn't want to move an inch, feeling Kyle's breath on his neck and his heartbeat as he laid so close. He felt Kyle move, worried he might've woken him up but he only moved a little closer, his hair tickling Stan's face. 

The snow was still falling, though a little less now. Stan spent the first few minutes of his day looking out of the window, studying the trees and their branches, as they bent under the weight of the snow. He didn't even notice he was stroking Kyle's back, it came as naturally as it could. Something about this made it feel like a dream. He was glad to be in the position, he was glad to have Kyle around. It seemed strange, but he grew to like him. He really liked him. It was almost hard to imagine how much they despised each other in the beginning but slowly, their ice walls melted. Stan guessed it was all the coffee. 

Kyle was such a prick in the beginning but there was something about that cheeky smile he just couldn't resist. After they let out all their anger and built-up frustration by making all kinds of snarky and mean remarks, they realized the other boy wasn't so bad after all. He learned to appreciate Kyle's dinners and his music taste, Kyle grew to like Stan's constant doodling on their notes. He'd look at the little bugs with big smiles and he was just that more excited for their next study session. His heart jumped when he saw Stan doodling his favorite band's logo on the corner of his paper absent-mindedly, knowing he introduced him to them. They'd hum their tunes together, not even noticing. 

Kyle couldn't get enough of how they play video games together, knowing they are supposed to study and work on their presentation. Stan's home was always so empty, he never saw his parents. He never tried to discuss it with Stan, afraid it would be a touchy subject. It was and he knew it was a boundary he couldn't overstep. Instead, he always enjoyed how they'd end up sprawled on his bed, snacking on snap peas and mangos while discussing the colors of the graphs. 

Stan was a little afraid to let himself be so vulnerable, especially with Kyle. Now that he was thinking about it, it did seem a little foolish. He was in his own dream world, but never knew Kyle's stance. He could be dreaming up their whole future and Kyle could still be just warming up to Stan. Stan didn't know. The morning was great until he started to doubt the whole situation. He didn't know and it scared him. He was afraid he was developing feelings for someone who could never reciprocate them. He didn't want that, not again. He was starting to get scared that he might hurt himself. Kyle wasn't just playing a game with him, putting up a friendly facade just because they were assigned to the project together... Right? 

Stan was at the point of overthinking where he doubted every nice word Kyle said. He knew Kyle was awake when he turned away, he slowly slid his arm from underneath him. Seconds later, Kyle was acting as if he'd just woken up but Stan knew that wasn't the case. He didn't know what to feel, he didn't know what to think.

  
*

  
Kyle stayed behind with Kenny, working on an assignment they'd received that day. They thought they'd get it done sooner if they stayed in class instead of going home and finding a million other things to do. “So how's your presentation going? When's the next date?”

“Tomorrow. I think it might be the last one. I sure hope,” Kyle laughed but didn't notice the door to their classroom opened a bit. The person stopped, hearing their conversation accidentally. 

“You sure sound happy.”

“I mean I just want to be done with the whole project. It's such a bother, I hate talking about what color graph we should use. I... honestly think Stan and me could both use some time apart,” he joked, flipping over the pages in his notebook.

“Wasn't what you were saying last time.”

“I mean... I don't know, dude. It's weird, I told you. I just... just don't know what to think about him.”

“Well, you sure seemed to have a lot of opinions on Stan a few nights ago,” Kenny laughed, remembering their kitchen talk. 

“Oh shut it. If I could erase the last few months, I would.”

“And I said you two could never get past your walls.”

“Well, I proved you wrong, didn't I?”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a third voice joined in, both boys turning around in surprise. Kyle felt his stomach shiver up and disappear, seeing Stan standing in the doorway. He didn't even look at him, excusing himself and going over to his usual place, looking for notes he left there. 

Kyle felt like he was glued to his chair with duct tape on his mouth. He couldn't believe Stan was standing there, God knows how long, especially during those last words. He knew he didn't mean it like that. He knew, he knew he didn't mean Stan when he said those words but it's all he heard. But he couldn't stand up or speak, it felt too embarrassing to try to save the situation in a whim, brushing his words under the carpet with an ‘oh, I didn't mean it like that’.

He watched Stan look for his belongings and pack them into his backpack, keeping his face away from the boys. But Kyle knew something was wrong. He quickly bid his goodbye, practically running out of the classroom.

Kyle gave Kenny a confused look, his friend only pointing at the opened door, telling him to run. Kyle didn't waste a minute. He knew he had to catch up with Stan and explain what he meant. He couldn't believe how much it hurt his heart, seeing the near-broken expression in his face. It felt like thorns in his heart but he knew he deserved it. 

He caught Stan barely before he left the building. He tried yelling out his name but Stan didn't stop, didn't turn around, didn't slow down. He wished Kyle would just go away. But he didn't, catching up with Stan and grabbing his wrists, making him turn around. He'd never seen Stan with such a look on his face, not even when they were just rivals.

The combination of hurt and disappointment, anger and sadness, he couldn't believe this all belonged to him. He didn't want to. He felt his heart clench when Stan asked him not to say a word, taking his wrist out of his hand. Kyle let out a quiet please, not giving up on Stan, not just yet. Stan repeated himself, worried Kyle might see the tears welling up in his eyes. His head was starting to hurt from holding it all in.

“Let me explain.”

“Dude, there's nothing to explain.,” Stan snapped, finally turning around. Kyle felt like a thousand knives were going through his stomach and a thousand more through his head. He knew he wanted to hold him back and explain everything, every word. Say that he didn't know how he meant it, that he didn't mean it like that. But Stan didn't let him have a second of rest, now that he held him back. “What do you want to explain? That this has been such a nuisance to you? That you hope it's going to be over soon? Fuck, that this was about proving something? I...I can't believe we... I thought we had something going. Don't worry, the project's over soon. I won't bother you after that.”

Kyle didn't know if he heard the whole thing. His thoughts were buzzing so loudly and he couldn't concentrate on one more word Stan was saying. he couldn't say a word either. Maybe Stan was waiting for him to do so, but his tongue was tied. He knew he messed up, he wanted to explain. Sure, he wanted the project to be over. Sure, it was a bother. But whatever he said was never about Stan. He didn't want his times with Stan to end, he never wanted that. Now that he was standing there with him, seeing him wipe away his own tears, he realized that. He never wanted to let go of Stan.

He wanted to tell him so many things. So many, but he felt so crushed under the weight of Stan's broken look, he didn't know how. He didn't know what would make it better. “I'm... I'm sorry.”

Stan snickered, not believing this was all Kyle could come up with. He didn't know what he wanted to hear. That it's all over and he was really glad? Maybe. Maybe it'd make it easier. That he was sorry and explain? Was there anything to explain? “Just let it go.”

“Stan...”

“Please. For now.”

  
*

  
Kenny hadn't given up on trying to convince Kyle to do something. Anything. For a few days now, he's been useless. He wasn't replying to his questions, hadn't paid attention to anything he's said. He could see his mind was still with Stan and everything that had happened. “Come on, you have to go,” he urged his friend, refusing to let him lay down in his bed. He knew once he was asleep, there was no way of getting him out and doing anything.

“He said I should let it go for a while.”

“Yeah, until he gets home. I can see it in your sad little eyes, God. Isn't it enough of a proof, seeing how hard it hit you?”

“I still... don't know.”

“You do.”

He did. Kyle knew exactly what he felt towards Stan. The past days he tried to convince himself that he didn't know. That he was just confused, that it was weird. But deep inside, he knew. He knew he wanted Stan to be his. As strange as that sounds to him. He wanted to hold him, he wanted to see him smile and he wanted to make him laugh, he hoped their contact won't be ended once the project ends. Stan became a part of his daily routine, of his everyday life and he couldn't imagine not texting him the first thing in the morning and last thing in the evening. 

Sure, he used the stupid excuse that they were just working on a project together. Sure. But he began to realize how much of their time spent together actually revolved around the project. And how much they spent talking, talking endlessly, lying on Stan's bed and laughing so hard they cried, catching little glances of the other boy and feeling all the stupid butterflies in the stomach whenever their eyes met. He cursed himself for dismissing all this, for convincing himself it's nothing when clearly it's so, so much. Stan meant so, so much to him. He knew.

“Do you think I should go?” he grabbed his jacket, stopping on his way out. He was scared of what Stan might say. That he might tell him to go to hell, not even listen to him. Maybe that he's misread this whole situation. He was afraid he might get hurt. But he wanted, no, needed Stan to know all the things he's known for such a long time. 

Kyle never waited for Kenny's answer, already on his way to Stan's place in hopes of catching him. 

  
Kyle cursed himself for walking instead of borrowing Kenny's car but the fresh air helped him calm down even though his stomach was still twisting and turning. The clouds looked so heavy again, dark and grey, hanging low. He hoped it won't rain until he gets there.

Kyle was almost at Stan's place when he noticed the figure leaving towards the bus stop, recognizing the jacket immediately. He yelled out Stan's name, hoping he'd stop but he didn't hear him. He quickened his pace, in the end running just so he would catch up with him. Stan turned around soon enough, seeing Kyle run after him. A part of him was happy to see his partner. Part of him wanted Kyle to disappear. “Kyle, please-”

“No, listen-”

“I need to catch the b-“

“Please,” Kyle sighed, grabbing Stan's hand. Stan couldn't help but look into his eyes, seeing something pure and genuine in them. He didn't know whether he wanted to hear it. But he didn't stop Kyle from talking, which he took as a good sign.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry about what I said. Yeah, this whole thing is a drag-”

“A great start.”

“It is a drag, but you aren't. The project is terrible and I'm glad we'll be over soon but you're the best fucking thing that came out of this. I never even hoped it could end this well. Stan, you don't even know how many times you couldn't leave my mind. I hated it, so much. I couldn't even look at you at the beginning without frowning and then there you were... Weeks later, the one thing I couldn't take my mind off of.” Kyle felt the few raindrops fall, not giving them much attention. Spilling the contents of his soul was more important.

“It's starting to rain.” Stan never let go of Kyle's hand. 

“Whatever. Listen, I need you to know this. I need you to know you were a blessing and a curse. I never thought someone could get my feelings so mixed up. That someone could get under my skin so quickly. I did mean it when I said I wished I could erase the last few months. Because I don't think I've ever been this scared of feeling anything towards anyone. I don't know if this is one-sided. I don't know and I know I might get hurt. But it's all better than letting you think you were a bother and I didn't care for you. Because-”

“Dude, come on, it's starting to rain.” Stan cut him off once more, this time pulling his hand to go hide under the little roof above his front door. He had already forgotten about the bus he was supposed to catch and the friends he wanted to meet. Kyle was the one thing and the only thing right now that mattered. 

But Kyle didn't budge from his space, not letting Stan stop his train of thought. “...because I'm in love with you.”

Kyle felt like he's just spat out half of his heart with that confession, ready for whatever Stan might say now. It felt like a rock was lifted from his heart and soul. The rain was now falling heavily and it was hard to say if he was wiping away raindrops or tears. Stan was looking away, trying to collect his thoughts while Kyle wiped away the drops from his face. He didn't know what to say. Anything and everything. 

But Stan didn't waste one more second, the weight of Kyle's last words finally dawning on him. He locked lips with Kyle, stroking his cheeks. When he felt him kiss back, the world seemed right, so right. He didn't care they were both wet, soaking wet. What mattered now were Kyle's words and Kyle's lips, finally on his. It all finally felt so complete. 

“I'm sorry,” Stan whispered against Kyle's lips, he was sorry he was being such a dick about it. He knew he might've overreacted. But at that moment, the realization that it was all just one-sided and there was no hope for him and Kyle crushed him. He wanted to tell him how he felt, he truly did, he explained to Kyle. He thought they had something, chemistry, whatever. Whenever they spoke or had coffee, there was that something between them. It made him crazy, it made him think about Kyle often, so often and so much. It made him want to hold his hand and caress his face. It made him want to wake up every morning just like they did during the trip. But he never had the courage, knowing they started where they started. He didn't know whether Kyle was on the same page, he didn't know what this new thing was. He was so surprised to see him break down his walls so easily. But he was glad he did. 

Both boys were soaking wet from the rain, standing by his front door, soaking up what had just happened. Kyle couldn't take his eyes off of Stan, he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. This was all so sappy. So cliché, the whole kiss in the rain deal. But if Stan was what sappy brought, if Stan's smile and laugh and holding his hand and claiming his lips was what mushy, sentimental romance brought, he loved it. He thanked his stars, his lucky star. Thank you.


	11. Cappuccino PT 1 [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based off of a song by the same name, it's a foreign song tho  
a songfic based off of verses

**Cappuccino PT 1**

_After the party, I wake up with a cappuccino_

Stan couldn't quite open his eyes. He tried, but the sun coming in was too bright, only increasing the pounding in his head. A groan escaped his throat as he rubbed his eyes, turning to his side, hoping it would make the pain more bearable. The blanket wouldn't move and he turned around, seeing a naked back turned to him. Memories from last night slowly emerged in his head, one by one and he scanned the room, the unfamiliar room and looked at the clothes thrown around in the heat of the moment. 

His mind didn't quite get to that part yet, he didn't recognize the person lying next to him. His head still ached more and more with every movement and the bottle next to the bed only confirmed his suspicion. What happened after he left Clyde's house party was a mystery for now. He gathered the last bits of his strength, sitting up and looking for his boxers, grabbing them on his way to the bathroom nearby. Somehow he knew the route to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and examining last night's damage in the mirror, running fingers over the marks on his neck. He'd like to say it was unusual. 

Stan leaned on the kitchen counter, finally feeling somehow decent with his shirt on. Kyle handed it to him the moment he exited the bathroom, Stan realizing who he spent the night with that very moment. The alarm in his head didn't set off immediately, only after Kyle took him to the kitchen to make him some coffee. He knew how Stan liked his coffee. After years of friendship, you remember. 

Both boys stayed quiet and neither knew what to say, both staring into the frothed milk in their cups. Kyle made sure to make it sweet, stealing small glances at Stan who hasn't moved since. He looked up at Kyle and saw he was just as tired after last night. Seeing his bed hair and sleepy look, Stan knew why his drunk mind did what it did. But the sirens in his head were getting louder and louder with each second as he realized what had happened last night to the full extent. 

_I try to kill the shame of yesterday with nicotine_

Stan gladly took the lighter from Clyde, lighting the cigarette that he's been rolling between his fingers for a while. The cold air woke him up, looking over the darkened city that played with colors and lights, transforming into something different than it was hours ago. He wondered what went on in the city, wondering if it's making the same mistakes he did. 

He breathed in the smoke, feeling the familiar sting in his lungs. Clyde waited for him to speak, leaning on the railing and spinning the brown drink in his glass around. He knew that what he was doing right now wasn't great for his body but he didn't know how else to distract his thoughts. Stan tipped off his cigarette, looking around Clyde's apartment, or at least what he was from the balcony. He was always jealous of his place, of the spacious bedroom and amazing view, seeing the whole city and more. The glass walls and his bar, always stocked up. He knew his place didn't come much shorter but still, there was this feeling in his apartment that he appreciated. 

Clyde tried to pry some information out of Stan, all in vain. He'd just look down with that grin on his face that you'd either hate or go crazy for. And he'd say nothing. Clyde would ask and ask, knowing it's eating him from the inside. He knew him well enough. “Did y-”

“We fucked, okay?” Stan finally broke his silence, looking to see if Clyde was shocked, or at least surprised. He wasn't. 

“That was quick.” 

Stan took a sip from his glass, feeling the liquid pleasantly burn as it went down his throat. After he spent the whole day in his top-floor office in the city center, it was good to have something that'll take his mind off of work. Stan simply mumbled that he knew anyway, Clyde agreeing. He knew, he figured, seeing them at his place yesterday evening. He wondered whether he should say something when he saw the lustful look in Kyle's eyes and not seeing Craig anywhere near. He apologized for not making it but Clyde knew he was the one to feel sorry for. 

He wondered when he saw them quietly stumble into the corner, away from everyone. Whether he should say something when he saw Stan grabbing his coat, leaving with Kyle. But he never did, his intoxicated mind wondering if he should say something but shushing the thoughts away with more liquor. This was not his place to intervene. 

Stan reached for the box of cigarettes laying on the table next to them, pulling out another one and losing track of how many he lit up that evening. He needed to kill the sane in him, to silence the guilt and process what had happened. The smoke from his lips disappeared as quick as he wished he could. 

“How was it?”

“Are you serious?”

“Come on, you're not going to tell me?” Clyde teased his colleague despite the glare in his eyes. Stan felt the whiskey loosen him up a little and let him recollect his memories from last night as best as he could. He only remembered snippets of it, still having blank spaces. But what he remembered was more than enough. He tried to forbid his lips from smiling, wishing guilt would act up and let him hang his head low and cry about how he regrets it, promising it was a mistake. But the utter bliss he remembered overpowered any negative feeling, any bad thought. He knew it was bad, but he also knew it was so good.   


  
_He woke up next to me and not him_

Stan wondered whether he should leave the button open or not. He wasn't sure how formal he should dress for the business lunch but that thought was pushed out of his head, he had more serious things to think about. He fiddled with the buttons to distract himself, from the idea that he had to have lunch with Craig and act as if nothing had happened. Nothing. He wondered if Kyle told him. Probably not. 

His fingers pushed the button in and out of the slit in his shirt until it was time to go. He knew he'd have to see him someday, sooner or later since they worked for the same company. Thankfully, they stayed on different floors. 

Stan sat in his parked car and rested his hands on the steering wheel, twisting them around. He cursed under his breath and finally stepped out because he knew he'd be late. He knew what restaurant Craig chose, the one he always did. The one he's been choosing since college, since he first got an internship where he got to wear a suit. Where they went to celebrate their new jobs just a few years back, where they'd go after every successful semester. They'd always walk back from the club or library back to their dorm and he'd always like the lights on the windows. He'd always say, that's where I'm fucking off when I get that internship. And he did get it, in the end, with the help of his parents. He knew he could always turn to them and get whatever he wanted. And he did. He never wanted to do it himself. And Stan went through all of it with him, as his roommate and his classmate and his best friend. 

The place was filled with people Stan always despised. He knew he was one of them and it kinda made him sick. But there were benefits to this lifestyle. Like the stupid watch he was wearing that cost more than he'd like to admit. It was a status symbol. Whatever. He could do without it. He found their booked table, always the same spot by the window. Craig loved that spot, looking outside at the pedestrians. He greeted him with the same smile he always did, during the years it was just more perfect and perfect and at the same time faker and faker. The change happened so subtly, Stan barely noticed there was never anything genuine about his smile. Maybe he forgot how to do that, his job taking a toll on him. 

Other business associates were at the lunch too but Stan barely noticed them, his stomach turning as soon as he sat down. His heart was ready to jump out every time Craig looked at him, worried he might say something. He never did, Stan couldn't see anything wrong behind the perfect facade. But the seat beside him stayed empty. Stan cautiously asked about it, Craig informing him his boyfriend should come anytime now. 

Stan felt like he could faint on the spot, even more so when he saw Kyle enter the restaurant, making his way to their table. He saw Stan's wide eyes that he tried to hide so miserably and he stood by so innocently when Craig asked him if they knew each other. Sure they do, Craig remembered, you helped us move in a few weeks back. Stan nodded, realizing that's why he knew the apartment. Craig's new apartment.

He gave him the sweetest smile, swiftly wiping any trace of shock or stress away from his face. He knew how to do it and he knew how to do it well. 

Stan couldn't enjoy the lunch. He tried to but every time Kyle would steal a glance at him or Craig talked his way, his mind would just go crazy. It was so strange seeing them together, loved up like nothing was up. To Craig, nothing seemed wrong and he was glad Kyle didn't let anything be noticed. He was so glad, he and Kyle exchanged a little smile but that was all. It started and ended that one night and now it was buried under a thick blanket of regret and guilt. It was a stupid mistake, nothing more, nothing less. 

But Stan felt that familiar twist in his gut whenever Craig put his arm around Kyle's shoulders, whenever he leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Stan couldn't shake off the blanket of shame whenever he looked at Craig. He knew Kyle was supposed to wake up next to him that night, not Stan. 

He kept swirling his drink around in the glass but every time Kyle would bump into his leg with his under the table and let it linger there, he'd stop and give him a look, seeing Kyle look at him with the same glance he had that night. 

Stan was glad Craig bid his goodbyes along with his colleagues, standing in front of the restaurant with the rest of them. They talked and smoked, Stan already exhausted of putting on that fake smile and acting like he's interested in their talk. He noticed Kyle wasn't really engaging in their business-related conversation, tapping off his cigarette until Craig was ready to leave. But not before Kyle could approach Stan one more time, leaning in to whisper. 

“For a rainy day.” He slipped Stan a little slit of paper into his pocket before leaving with Craig.

_I feel tequila and wine hitting my head_

Stan was glad to finally be home, leaving his friends alone at the bar. His head was feeling a little woozy and the wold seemed a little simpler. But something wasn't sitting quite right with him and he couldn't put his finger on it. He threw his jacket on the couch, looking around his apartment.

Empty.

It was so empty. It looked like life stopped there. Usually, he'd have someone on his arm, under him, on his lips, he'd know how it always ended. But not tonight, he knew he caught the attention of some people and he knew he caught some eyes, locking them with his but he never saw a spark fly. There was nothing that drew him to them. Before anyone could approach, he'd leave, this wasn't the right evening for him. 

Stan checked the clock, it wasn't even midnight yet. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, he knew he wanted something but he didn't know what. Stan poured himself a glass of wine, hoping it'd make his thoughts clearer or at least make them flow freely. It led him to his couch, he threw himself down on the strategically placed blankets and pillows, looking straight out of the window at the river flowing peacefully nearby. It brought in the wet, fresh air that hit his face, helping him think clearly. 

Empty.

He felt empty. Sure, there were things in his life that made it feel like he had some purpose. But they were only temporary, lasting only a fraction of what he'd hope. There was nothing left for him to fight for. He had his apartment, that stupid finances job, his stupid car. He didn't have to worry about things. His way in life was paved for him, he didn't have to fight for every little thing. 

It was too bland for him. There was no excitement. He had everything and nothing to lose, nothing to gain. It was so boring. He knew he wouldn't quit his job, even though he knew how rotten it is. He wouldn't try to find his true self, go on a spiritual journey. He felt so dull but didn't feel like doing anything about his. 

His hand rested in the pocket of his pants, his glass of wine resting on his chest while he contemplated his life. His fingers found the little slip of paper, he pulled it out, confused. Inside was a phone number, neatly scribbled.

He wondered where it came from before he realized. Kyle.

Excitement. Danger. Action. He held the paper in front of his face and felt all that. It was hot, it was new. He hadn't felt anything like that in a long time. Kyle. Intense, exciting, passionate, whatever. That's what's missing, he's what's missing.

Stan couldn't accept the fact that he's the thing missing this evening. No one's eyes captured his quite as Kyle's did. No one pulled him in like a magnet, no one shone like the Sun, so bright and so hot. He couldn't wrap his mind around what made him stand out so much. He didn't know but something about him was just irresistible. He could see him, on his couch or on his bed. Once there were those thoughts, there was no shame. No guilt. Only need. 

Shit.

Stan closed his eyes, trying to get those thoughts out of his clouded mind. They were replaced by the shameful memory of Kyle's breath on Stan's neck, his hands searching, grabbing under his shirt, whispering sweet nothings. It was only making everything worse, Stan's mind fully occupied. His fingers twisted about the paper again, reading the numbers once more. 

Stan looked outside the window, feeling the temperature drop. He saw the raindrops bounce off of his window, breaking the light coming into his dimly lit apartment. He cut his finger on the piece of paper, wincing but not letting it go. For rainy nights.

_And so we start quickly_

The door opened slowly, Stan greeting his desire and his wish with a quiet hello. The man stepped in, letting Stan take off his coat. He knew what he was doing, making sure to ask every question with a husky whisper, making sure his hands moved slowly and firmly, making sure Kyle know that the whole world is about them and only them now. 

Stan guided his guest into the kitchen but before they could move any further from the hall, he found himself pressed against a wall. He felt Kyle's lips on his after the weeks of drought, Kyle kissing him such passion it made his head spin. He knew this was what he needed, what he was missing. 

The apartment didn't look as empty as it did a week ago. He dreaded him moving an inch away, him stepping away, him pulling away until finally, he did. Stan just now noticed his fingers brushing through Kyle's hair, their foreheads touching while they tried to catch their breath. He remembered his lips feeling like heaven from the faint memories from the party but this was from another world. 

There wasn't time to talk. There was only space to breathe and sigh, to whisper to each other and let yourself be carried by the stream. He didn't try to control the situation like he always did. He let himself be carried, pulled, touched, craved. He could tell from the way Kyle felt every muscle on his body, how he whispered ‘please’ when Stan made his way down his neck, stopping at the collar bone. He loved it, he felt drunk from him.

  
Stan looked around for his clothes, Kyle pulling on whatever nearest article of clothing he could find. Kyle leaned in, giving Stan a kiss on the jaw. “You're hot when you curse.”

“Then make me.” He smiled, that cheeky smile Kyle went crazy for there again. He saw his eyes travel from his eyes down to his lips again, standing up to make Kyle long for his touch a little more. “Coffee?” he offered, knowing he needs his morning pick-me-up. 

Kyle watched him froth the milk from the couch, making his way to him to embrace him from the back, the sudden skin on skin contact sending shivers down Stan's spine. “Make it sweet,” he whispered into Stan's ear, locking his arms around his waist. He watched the other man whirl milk into their coffee. He wondered where he learned to do it so well but his thoughts were soon disrupted by Stan turning around, handing Kyle his cup. “Hot, so be careful,” he warned him, not sure himself if he's speaking about the coffee of Kyle.

_Don't tell him what we do _

Stan couldn't care less where Kyle's shirt ended up, throwing it somewhere behind him. He ran his hands over the other man's naked torso, taking in the sight, stopping only at his playful smile. He fiddled with the hem of his sweatpants, despite his protests as he urged him to do it faster. This time, Kyle was the one hosting their private party. With Craig gone for the weekend, he knew exactly what his plans were. 

The TV played quietly in the background, illuminating the barely lit up room. They didn't even notice it was on. Kyle's fingers intertwined with Stan's, taking in the sight as he was straddling him. He wasn't stoked on the idea that he was still fully clothed. 

“Aren't you going to take that off?” he teased, pulling on his shirt. Before Stan could respond, they were interrupted by keys jiggling in the lock. They stopped dead in their tracks, Stan's eyes as wide as a deer in headlights. He felt his heart somewhere in his throat, quickly jumping off of the couch and looking around the room to find a good excuse now that an escape plan was out of the window. 

He grabbed the pack of cigarettes laying on the coffee table, bumping into Kyle who was frantically looking for his shirt and opening his laptop, the files from work popping up. Stan couldn't be more grateful that the hall was a few rooms back, giving them a few seconds before Craig got into the room and saw the mess.

He heard him form the hall, ‘evening, love’. Stan failed to hear anything past that, quickly escaping to the balcony for a smoke. Kyle sat behind his laptop, barely pulling down his shirt before Craig finally made it to the room. He was surprised to see Kyle's still up, let alone that Stan was there too. He stopped by Kyle, giving him a long kiss before asking what's up. Christ, Stan turned away, he could've just stuck his own tongue down Craig's throat, save Kyle the trouble. Stan couldn't help but feel sick to his stomach. From himself. Maybe even from Kyle. It was one thing to kinda think about Craig when doing what they're doing and shun that thought away. It's a whole another thing when he saw them kissing, Craig being in the position he was in not even a minute ago. When he heard Craig call him love when not even a minute ago, he was calling him baby. To see Kyle smile when just some time ago, those lips were his and just his. 

Kyle watched the smoke escape into the night, hearing Craig ask Kyle about him. There was no hesitation in his voice, sighing about how Clyde called him like an hour ago, that he needed his stuff edited that night and that he was supposed to send him the contracts with his clients and transactions so he could do the monthly report and after that, he stopped listening, knowing they're in the clear. 

He only heard the balcony door open, Craig peeking in. He greeted his friend, asking if he wants a drink. Stan refused, he's here by car. But Craig decided to join him at his work break, stepping in before getting himself a glass. “A nice night.”

“Sure is.”

“Hey, thanks for helping Kyle with his contracts, when I was gone. God knows the administrative stuff is not his strong suit.”

“Sure, no problem. I think he's in the clear as long as he knows how to hold a camera,” he laughed, remembering how he saw his photoshoot photos on the cover of some magazine a few days ago. Black and white and all artistic, the models were pretty. That's all he remembered. Craig excused himself to go grab a glass after a long night.

Kyle took the opportunity to join Stan on the balcony, taking out a cigarette for himself too. “Fuck, that was close,“ he whispered, hoping some nicotine would calm him down.

“Didn't you say he was gone for the weekend?”

“He was supposed to!”

“What happened?”

“His meeting got canceled,” he breathed out, glad they managed the situation. “I told him I called you to come to help me with contracts since he was gone. He usually manages it since you two work... up at the finances or something.”

“A solid backstory,” Stan laughed, his heart finally calming down and his pulse going back to normal. Sure, if Craig looked close enough, he'd see some marks of their rendezvous. Like the messy hair and rosy cheeks, messy blankets. But he didn't. Or perhaps just turned a blind eye.

_Cursing themselves with something so innocent_

At first, there was always this heavy cloud of doubt and blame hanging over Stan whenever he parked his car by Kyle's apartment. He'd always sit in his car for a while, contemplating whether this was really worth it. He knew it was worth it but his consciousness tried to find some fault in their secret rendezvous. Other than the obvious, he couldn't. Everything about Kyle was just so worth it.

But after weeks, the cloud disappeared. It became regular, a routine for them. Stan no longer thought of the consequences, only looking forward to what came.

Craig made it a little easier for him. He'd feel guilty whenever he remembered how loved up they looked during that lunch but whenever he saw him at work, talking to his colleagues and secretaries, it took the burden off of Stan. 

It was just this sweet little escape for both of them. Kyle would often text him that he's thinking of him. Stan wondered whether that was true. He wondered if he was with Craig when he texted him those things. 

Stan held Kyle by his waist, swaying to the beat of the music with him. He held the glass of wine in one hand and his sweetheart for the night in the other. The night was hot and warm, the sounds of the outside world coming in through the open balcony doors. Kyle laughed the whole time, wrapping his hands around Stan's shoulders, ending his sentences with kisses on either of Stan's cheeks. He looked into his eyes and felt what he never did with Craig, something so hypnotic. He knew he could just melt right there in Stan's arms and die happy at that moment. It was just his little piece of paradise.

Whenever Kyle thought of him during the day, he felt like he needed to have him beside him, his hands in his hair, he wanted to feel his skin on his, his nails scratching his skin, whatever, he wanted it all, he wanted him all, his raw emotion and desire, he wanted him under him, to wrap his arms around him because, in the end, that's all that they did.

But there was something about sitting by the flowing river, watching the sun bounce off of it and disperse into everywhere, making the water sparkle so blindingly. And throwing little rocks into the slow water, watching them splash and sink. Feel the sun hit his face and feel it caress his face. Feel Stan caress his face. When they danced, Stan was his sun. There was something very innocent and soothing about the way he could lay his head on his shoulder and let him lead the way around his living room. It felt like something was floating around them, protecting them from the world, them, only them dancing at the moment.

He knew how Stan could be, he knew how he was during rainy, cold nights. Sometimes they wouldn't speak at all, sometimes there'd be only breathy sighs and groans and Kyle couldn't get enough of them. He couldn't, he loved every second of when he saw euphoria flow all over Stan's body. And how sometimes the words would get stuck in his throat and then Kyle could kiss him so deeply.

But not on a night like this, they didn't dare to be rough, to be needy. Stan would hold his face in his hands and kiss the corners of his mouth, not giving him the gratification of a kiss. And he'd smile at how Stan's cheeks flushed when he'd lean in and whisper something sweet and tap his fingers on his chest. It was the first time they weren't so selfish but instead, Kyle caressed him, caressed him everywhere and Stan felt like he was flying on a cloud. The real world seemed so far away at that moment and they took in every second of that odd feeling.

_A night full of regrets, he's next to me, i'm next to him_   
_we're losing our vision but we know the direction_

Stan stared at the ceiling. This wasn't how he expected the evening to go. No, not in the slightest. He was ready to pull out the documents he's been putting off for so long and get them done, to keep his mind off of the things that were troubling him, to keep his mind off of Kyle and the way he made him feel the past weeks. To sort out his thoughts while navigating through numbers d percentages and tell himself all the things no one was able to tell him. To stop thinking about Kyle and the way he looked at him whenever they were together.

But instead, he ended up laying on his bed, looking at the turned-off lights while listening to Kyle pouring his heart out. He wanted to sit up and look into his teary eyes and wipe away the tears but couldn't. He couldn't. He knew that was the job for someone else. Craig. But Craig was also the cause of these tears. Stan turned out to be the shoulder to cry on.

He wanted to ignore his phone, putting it away when he saw Kyle's name pop up. He wasn't in the mood and didn't want to put himself through all the shit of watching him go home to his significant other again. At least not for a while. But he called again and then left a text. And another one. Stan hesitated to open them but as soon as he read his words, he was calling his fling back. 

He guessed he didn't have anywhere else to go.

And so Kyle went to him. He was over at Stan's place in a matter of minutes, probably on his way whether Stan answered his calls or not. 

Stan had to stop himself in his tracks when he saw Kyle come in, he had the urge to take him into his arms and take away all his worries and tears. But that wasn't his part in this relationship. He stood by the door while Kyle took off his jacket and looked at him, waiting for some words. No one knew what to say. But Kyle's new tears were speaking for themselves. And that's how they ended up here.

Stan fiddled with a remote to the lights he had in his room, twisting it and turning, trying to keep his attention elsewhere. From Kyle's tears and his hurt. Because as much as it hurt Stan to see him like this and as much strength as it took to stay laying down instead of embracing Kyle and kissing his tears away, he knew it wouldn't be right. He was worried it'd send the wrong message. That there's anything more than lust and need. He spent the last week convincing himself so and he wasn't willing to drown in his own feelings again. 

Stan looked to his side and saw Kyle sitting in silence now, leaning against the headboard and drawing circles onto Stan's arm. He looked lost in his thoughts. But as soon as he saw Kyle's eyes looking into his, he smiled. And it ached Stan's hart. Because that smile wasn't meant for him. He quickly handed him a new tissue, seeing all the soaked tissues crumpled next to him. 

He listened to Kyle while he explained his whole evening. And how he and Craig fought for the last few weeks. Because whatever they had before, it wasn't quite there. It didn't feel like a relationship, it didn't really feel like anything, he claimed. And he kept telling him about how they've grown so distant. At least that's what Craig yelled at him, along with all the other hurtful things. And Kyle wiped away another tear, saying he knows it's like that. How Craig said that there's something else bringing him happiness. And he didn't know what, but it killed him inside.

And that something in him broke and he yelled all his thoughts out without thinking too. And how he saw in Craig's eyes how each word broke him bit by bit. That he yelled how he only feels like an accessory to him. That he only acknowledged him in front of other people when it was convenient. That he isn't appreciated, he's never been. How it's gotten so boring, so repetitive, he wondered how much more he could take. 

Stan wondered whether Craig knew. His stomach turned at that thought, afraid this might've gotten out of hand. He heard Kyle's words. Is this why they've gotten on like a house on fire? Because it was exciting. New. Lustful. What he's been missing. What they've both been missing. But it was nothing more and Stan knew even though his heart told him otherwise. He tried to shut it up. He's not what's right for Kyle, instead, a little toy that he needed. Kyle told Stan that Craig knew something was up, that he knew he wasn't going to the studio all the time. And he saw how much it hurt him and it tore his heart just that more. But he couldn't resist. He couldn't put a stop to all this.

“And then he asked me if I still loved him,” he said quietly, still playing with the hem of Stan's sleeve. He looked at him with surprised eyes, sitting up and supporting himself on his elbows. 

Kyle was avoiding his eyes, looking down as he made little tears into the tissue. Stan didn't know what to say. Or what to do. “That's a silly question.”

“It isn't, really.”

“Come on, you love him, don't you?”

Kyle stayed silent. Because he didn't know. Maybe he loved him. But he wasn't in love anymore. Was he in love with Stan? He didn't know. It was all so blurry. Did he love Craig? He wasn't sure, at least at the moment. He didn't feel close to him anymore. It didn't feel intimate, it didn't feel special like it did in the beginning. And he was scared that it's going to keep declining like this. After the argument, he couldn't imagine how they were going to patch things up. 

“I... don't know,” he whispered, feeling stupid just saying that. He didn't want to bother Stan with his relationship troubles. It didn't seem fair. But he was at a point where he didn't know where else to go, who else to turn to. He knew he was there for Stan and Stan was there for him when he needed a break from the world, to unwind and live in their little bubble where the real world didn't exist for a few minutes. And just kiss like there's nothing else left to do and caress like you're touching a piece of delicate porcelain. 

“Kyle,” Stan softly put a hand on his shoulder and let it slide down, keeping his hand next to Kyle's. “You wouldn't be here like this if you didn't love him. Come on, we have to get you home.”

Stan wanted to stand up and go get his keys but Kyle grabbed his wrist, preventing him from standing up. He didn't look at him, keeping new tears at bay. “I... I can't. Not right now,” he whispered, finally looking up at Stan while his hand found his and their fingers intertwined. 

Stan felt as if a sack hit him over his head. His mind was spinning, just looking into Kyle's eyes. There was something he hasn't seen before in his eyes. There was something about the way he held his hand and stroked it with his thumb. He hated to admit it, he hated it so much but there was something so loving about the way he looked at him. It wasn't good for Stan. He didn't know whether he could take it, his hand on his, in a situation like this. He wiggled it out, bringing it up to his face to wipe away any tears because he knew it wasn't good for him, for his heart. To hear him say it like there was a place in his heart for him. Like this could ever be something.

Because there wasn't. It all started as a quick fuck. And that's all it was ever supposed to be.

He wasn't willing to get his heart broken because of a little fling. 

But he couldn't move, he was stuck in place with his hand on Kyle's cheek. He promised himself no more feels. But it was hard when Kyle took it as an invitation, wrapping his hands around Stan's torso and burying his face in his shirt. Stan couldn't help himself, pulled Kyle closer even though he felt his shirt getting wet. “Please,” Kyle whispered, his hands gripping Stan's shirt. “Don't let me go. Not tonight.”

It was hard to feel nothing. Stan couldn't fight himself, he couldn't fight what his heart told him. Not tonight. He stroked Kyle's back and kissed his hair, wishing to take all the hurt away. He wanted to see one little smile on his face. His heart clenched with every sob he heard. But he let himself indulge in his feelings, all of them. One last time before shutting them down.


	12. Cappuccino PT 2 [M]

**Cappuccino PT 2**

_But now I have to go_   
_please let me go_   
_that's the way it's supposed to be _   
_but you know_   
_I'll be back_   
_don't call, I won't pick up_

  
Stan didn't want to admit how hard it was to ignore Kyle's calls but it was getting easier with each day that passed. He felt like he was finally getting back on track with his feelings. Shutting them up. Like before.

He was seeing off other people now in the morning, where he didn't have to think about the consequences. Or about his feelings. Once they were gone, they were gone from his mind too. He was never looking for anything more than one night.

It was hard to cut off Kyle without explaining anything. But he was certain Kyle knew. That he had to go before he asked Kyle to stay. He cut him off like a drug, his favorite drug but so, so destructive. And the withdrawal was getting easier and easier. 

Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew their paths would cross again. And he didn't know how it'd end but that's not his problem for now. Kyle knew too, that this wasn't the end. Just a pause, because they both felt like it was getting out of control. Feelings were never supposed to be involved. And once they realized it was beginning to be about more than just sex, it was a dangerous game. You can't tell how you're going to act when someone's just so captivating. Like a siren in the sea. If Kyle were a sailor, he'd be drowned by now because he just couldn't resist Stan.

But it was a small world after all. Sometimes, they'd see each other. Sometimes Stan would see him in the halls through those giant windows with Craig and they'd look so happy together. At first, it hurt but now, it didn't. He knew he was never his. He'd just turn around and wait until they were gone. There was no point in stopping by for a small talk.

Craig's attitude towards him probably hasn't changed either. He didn't know because he acted as fake as before. It was great for the customers but he didn't know when to stop. Willingly or unwillingly, it carried into his personal life too. That forced smile, always knowing how to answer, even before the question was asked. He long wasn't the same person he was in college. Stan didn't know when was the last time he saw Craig genuinely laugh, because that just wasn't a part of his job. Sometimes he wished they could just drink awful alcohol and order pizza after a party they escaped from because it was getting too boring, just like the old days.

Sometimes Kyle would see Stan while delivering his photos or just coming for a visit. He never went into his office, although it was hard to miss it, with it’s enormous transparent walls and a few plastic plants, standing at the far back of the floor but still prominent enough. It was facing Craig’s office directly. He’d sit there and answer calls and flip through papers in his blue suit and neat shirt. He was in that office once. And if it weren't for the glass walls, he knew he'd strip him of that suit right away.

He recognized the shirt he had on. Ivory and silk and it hung on his shoulders so nicely. He remembered it, thrown on the backseat of his car. He couldn't help but laugh a little, looking away from his past affair. It brought back sweet memories but not ones he'd like to think of. Because they hurt. 

He forbade himself from thinking about him. The only one for him was Craig. And he had the ring to prove it. Shortly after they had the fight that broke it all, both came to the conclusion that this was the right path for them. Both promised to work on their mistakes. And it was great for a while but it got so boring so quickly. And Stan's shirt reminded him of that, he remembered how he had to go to the tailor because Kyle ripped some of the buttons off. Sometimes he wouldn't even take his shirt off, that's how badly he needed him. Not something he could do with Craig. Not that it wasn't great, it was sweet and slow and so vanilla, and sometimes that was just what he needed but in the end, it was what drove him to Stan.

  
And the world really was a small place. Stan hid the key to his locker in his pocket, carrying his water bottle and towel out of the changing rooms. He was never shy to hit the gym but ever since that whole mess happened, he's been here more often than not. It helped him sweat out all the negative thoughts and all the shit he put into his body the night before.

He always pushed himself. He always pushed himself to lift more, to run further, to hold longer. It made him feel like all the negative feelings were leaving his body. It was all going away, into the ether. His mind was blank for a second, clean as a paper. His eyes and mind only focused on the numbers on the treadmill.

He adjusted the speed and angle, skipping to a song he liked. He hung his towel around his neck, starting slow. It was the end of his workout already, the last few minutes on the treadmill. The TV above him was loud and the music in the gym was even louder but his music canceled it all out. 

He looked around, his eyes unexpectedly meeting a familiar pair. He stared for a second before finally tearing his gaze away from Kyle, telling himself not again. His eyes stayed glued on the speed marker but he couldn't help himself, after three months he had to look again, continuing to run like before. And so did Kyle, both giving each other a little smile. Stan turned away and ran, ran from his thoughts just like he did every time before. 

_You knew we wouldn't stop at a cappuccino_   
_an hour later_   
_we're drinking gin and wine_   
_slow, slow, fast_

  
It didn't take Kyle too long to get in contact again. And at first, Stan was reluctant on picking up the phone. He didn't know if this was a case he wanted to open again. Because what he would find there would be wonderful and exciting and it'd bring something into his life that he misses so much. But along with it would come the ugly, the dishonesty, the lying, the feelings and in the worst case, the love. 

And so he didn't pick up the phone. And Kyle didn't call again, aware that Stan knows why he's calling. And he wasn't sure if this is something he wants to get tangled in again. The ring was off of his finger, sitting on his bedside table while Craig was gone for the week. More and more often, he was alone and he knew it'd be like this. Maybe it was like that even before but when he had Stan, he never noticed.

But there was so much more he missed about Stan, not just how he kissed him the right way every time. He kinda missed the sneaking around, he missed driving away from everyone, creating their own safe haven. He missed the way he made his coffee and how they'd sometimes sit on the balcony and smoke with a drink in their hands, silent, just letting all the stress of life blow away. He knew he shouldn’t miss all that, he should be thinking about his body and the way he touched him. Less and less he thought about the emotional side of things. It didn’t matter. That’s not what drove him to Stan anyway.

He saw him sit in his cubicle again. And he wouldn't have approached him if it weren't for Craig asking him to bring him some files. He knocked quietly and walked in with the same grin he had when he entered Stan's flat. He looked up in surprise, ending his call immediately. 

“Didn't think you'd be a secretary.”

“Oh, I could never. I don't know how to make good coffee and I couldn't flirt with everyone on the floor.”

“Craig sent you?” he asked, flipping through the papers.

“Yeah,” he mumbled and was on his way before turning around once more. “It... was nice to see you again.”

“You too.”

“Would you... maybe want to go grab a coffee sometime? Just for old time's sake.”

Stan closed the papers, putting them aside while the question lingered in the air. “Sure.”

  
Stan knew it wouldn't be just coffee. He knew it as soon as they sat down and he stirred milk into his coffee. He watched Kyle pour some sugar on top, they were both quiet, watching each other. But neither had the need to talk. Stan was finally enjoying his company. He watched the setting sun cast warm orange light onto Kyle's face and it looked so nice. 

Eventually, Kyle was the one to start the conversation. And it dragged on for quite some time, Stan didn't even notice his coffee has gotten cold. He asked him about Craig, seeing the ring he kept playing with the whole time. He immediately stopped, saying they're doing... well. Great. Whatever. He talked about it for a while but Stan's thoughts kept slipping away. 

They knew that once they paid, their night wasn't over yet. Neither mentioned it, Stan just led the way home as he always did. The cold night air was hitting their skin and tingling pleasantly. It was quiet outside, it almost felt rude to start a conversation. 

Stan fished for his keys, opening his front door. It was like a quiet agreement between them, one they made when Kyle asked if he'd like to go grab some coffee. 

They ended up in the living room, the balcony was now too cold during this time of year. Stan excused himself while he took off his suit jacket and threw away his tie, feeling the corporate claws letting him go for the night. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt, he was home after all. 

He didn't need to ask to know Kyle would go for wine. The bottles were conveniently beside his sofa, in a neat cabinet. He set out two glasses, one filled with white wine that he kept just for him and the other one sizzling with gin and tonic. He noticed Kyle watching him closely, taking in every part of him. Stan liked it. He wondered if he'd changed during those months they kept apart. 

“You're not wearing your watch,” Kyle remarked when Stan handed him his glass. 

“Well, you're wearing a ring. There has to be some balance, huh?” he laughed, taking the seat next to him on the couch. Kyle looked at it, smiling absently. And then he took it off and placed it on the coffee table next to him, it landed with a ring against the glass table. He grabbed the little controller next to it, handing it to Stan so he could play some music. But Stan didn't want to hear music. He wanted to hear Kyle's voice.

He never realized how much he actually missed it. And when he laughed, and when he kept quiet and replied with the sweetest voice when Stan said something mushy and sappy. And when he'd moan and ask Stan for more. He didn't ask, he demanded. Stan missed that. But he played some music for him.

Neither was sure what to talk about. Whether to act as if this is just a regular evening and in the end, something will ‘accidentally’ happen or see it as it is, a hookup and waste no words, no more seconds. And in the end, they just sat there, feeling like they're both parts of a magnet at the same time, something pulling them in so strongly towards each other and at the same time keeping them apart. 

Stan looked at the bubbles in his glass, the drink leaving a pleasantly bitter taste at the back of his tongue. “So,...” he looked up at Stan, leaning against the back of his couch and twirling the wine around. He glanced back at him, setting the glass down and kissing him again, after three months. 

It felt like heaven.

It was heaven. 

Stan had never tasted anything as sweet before. Not even when they used to hook up. Now it had an extra layer of longing and need and it was finally met with satisfaction. Kyle brought his hands up to Stan's shoulders, one stroking his face gently. 

When he pulled away, neither said a word. The kiss felt unbelievable but they knew what would come after would feel even better. Kyle missed Stan's body. He missed every inch of him. Looking into each other’s eyes after a kiss like that felt way more natural than trying to talk about what happened at work today. 

Stan tried to deny that he felt all of the feelings come back but couldn’t. He didn’t really care, he let himself indulge in the bittersweet nature of them, just for tonight. He let himself feel his heart beat fast and his stomach clench when Kyle’s hand moved up his thigh or when he felt his tongue again. 

His hands brushed against Kyle's hips as he pushed him back, carefully unbuttoning his shirt so they wouldn't have to look for the buttons again.

Buzz.

They both turned their heads to the coffee table, smile disappearing from Stan's face. Kyle sat down from his lap, leaning back to grab his buzzing phone. With a sigh he answered it, only giving quiet ‘mhm’s as answers. Sometimes he looked at Stan and gave him a little smile, stroking his hand. He reached back and grabbed his ring from the table and ended the call. His eyes dropped in sadness, giving a quiet apology.

“I have to go. I-... Craig's plane landed, I have to pick him up,” he sighed, seeing Stan's eyes dim in disappointment. He almost laughed at how absurd it was but he felt guilty leaving Stan right at this moment. He'd give up a lot of things to just stay there for the night, breathe in Stan's perfume and watch him lose himself in the moment. But he couldn't.

“I'm sorry.”

Stan gave him an understanding smile. Sure, he's sorry too. Whatever. He watched Kyle grab his jacket and leave. A part of him was glad nothing serious happened that night. A part of him was saddened he'd left so quickly.

  
_I'm in a smoky bar, I see him standing there_

Stan set his glass down, feeling the pleasant buzz in his head. The loud music and neon lights only added to the effect, along with the smell of smoke and alcohol that almost burned his eyes. 

He was glad his friends had connections and booked a booth on the upper floor, overlooking the bar and dancefloor. He liked to keep a little bit of privacy, even in clubs like this. 

Another round was served, all of them downing their shots in one go. He forgot about the cigarette he was holding until it lightly burned his fingers. He engaged in whatever talk he was in the state for with whoever was the closest, most of the time staying back with Clyde. He was the only familiar face he was glad to see. 

It was nice not to be required to wear a suit for once. He felt a little like he did in college, going into the club and remembering just snippets the morning after, gluing together memories with Craig to figure out what they actually did.

He didn't plan on getting trashed. He wasn't opposed to the idea of taking someone home. It took Clyde a good few minutes of convincing Stan to at least step out to the ledge and see all the fun he's missing. He grabbed another cigarette from the pack, following his friend outside. 

The music seemed insanely loud, to the point where he felt it in his stomach. He leaned on the ledge and observed the people below him, dancing and letting go as much as he wished he could. But he wanted to stay upstairs, behind the silver bars, and not be bothered by anyone. 

“I can't believe we're out of rum,” Clyde whined, looking through the bar they had for themselves. Stan knew he'd continue to be a bother about it so he offered to go down to the bar and get a bottle. Clyde won't touch anything else than a rum and coke. 

Stan walked towards the curved stairs, hoping he won't fall down. It took him a while to fiddle with the red velvet separator. God damn, what is this, the Oscars? He shook the hook, pulled it up and down, hoping he'll unhook it somehow. It was taking embarrassingly long, Stan looked around and into the nearest private booth to see if anyone's staring. He was met with a familiar pair of eyes, unhooking the separator as soon as he saw Kyle looking at him and running down the stairs.

His heart was ready to jump out of his chest, Stan blaming it on the adrenaline of seeing him. He hoped he'd get lost in the crowd and Kyle won't see him again. He pushed his way through the crowd, cursing the bar that was on the other side. 

Every time someone bumped into him or pushed their elbow into his side, he wondered why he ever left the private zone. This was fun when he was four years younger. Now he was spoiled with private parties and VIP lounges. He dug his way forward until he felt someone tug on his belt loops, pulling him backward. Stan turned around to give the person a quick ‘piss off’ before seeing those damned eyes again. He stopped dead in his tracks until Kyle came a little closer, closing the distance between them. They were on a packed dancefloor after all.

Kyle pressed himself even closer, grabbing Stan's hips and moving with him into the rhythm. Kyle was biting his lip to stop that big smile and Stan already felt as he was losing his grip on his own thoughts. With no more hesitation, encouraged by both the alcohol and Kyle's sheer presence, Stan laid his hands on Kyle's sides, moving along with him. And he never stopped.

He didn't stop when he couldn't tell where his body ended and Kyle's started he didn't stop when he felt Kyle's lips on his jaw and he didn't stop when Kyle grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd, pushing through people and heading for the rusty doors at the back.

  
_Behind the club where he had to have me_

Kyle barely pushed the doors open, the cold night air immediately hitting their intoxicated minds. The rain made the air even colder but neither cared. Stan felt the sparse raindrops on his face and shirt, forgetting all about them as soon as Kyle took the lead and pushed him back into the wall behind them. His back hit the cold stone and he had to hold his voice in, unsure whether it was because of the sudden contact with the wall or with Kyle. He attacked his lips just like during that first night, he barely tasted like alcohol and all his fantasies and all his nightmares. He loved it, it felt so thrilling and exciting, brushing wet hair away from Kyle's face and sweeping the raindrops away from his face. 

“What are we doing?” Stan regained his mind for a second, putting his hand on Kyle's chest to stop the affair momentarily.

“I don't care.”

“You s-”

“I don't care. I need you. I fucking need you,” he whispered desperately, running his thumb over Stan's lips and kissing him again. “Just tonight.”

Stan knew. And as much as it hurt him, he couldn't refuse. Tonight only.

  
_There was fear in his eyes that I'll want something more_   
_but he understands_   
_in the morning_   
_when he wakes up_   
_alone_

They could barely keep their hands off each other on the way back to Kyle's place knowing it's within walking distance. Much closer than Stan's apartment. The thought of Craig being home or not never crossed Stan's mind. He didn't care at all, only relieved after Kyle opened the door and they were free to do whatever.

They were still wet from the rain but Kyle led him straight to the bed, pushing him down and climbing on top. His soaked shirt was the first to go, along with Stan's and his belt. He held himself up on his elbows, running his hand through Kyle's hair. He pulled away from their kiss for a second, already seeing the disapproval in his fling's eyes. He ran his fingers down his neck and along with the thin golden necklace he always wore, neatly laid under his shirt most of the time. And then he stopped, seeing Kyle think about what's happening.

He was worried.

He didn't have time for this. Stan knew. He didn't have time to be caressed. He didn't have time to feel every loving touch and whisper sweet nothings, to feel whatever he felt with Stan before. No time. He only had time for a quick fuck and that's all, he only had time to need Stan, to crave him, after all this time. He wanted him to be raw and rough, to curse, and not care about a thing. Not one thing. Only care about himself. To be selfish and greedy. He didn't have time for love or feelings. Because it gets so complicated.

Stan understood. And Stan gave in. Just for tonight.

  
_I'm sitting on the bed at 5 am with a cappuccino in my hand_   
_and I'm looking for an exit_   
_but still, in the morning, my heart's empty_   
_because it didn't bring any feelings_   
_just a few benefits_

The sun wasn't up completely. Stan laid in the cold bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking about what happened a week ago. He left, left before the morning could come and Kyle could wake up just so he wouldn't have to see those eyes again. He ran away like a coward but he didn't care. He knew he wasn't of much use to Kyle after the night. It was over.

It was over for them. 

Stan knew this was the best way to go. The moment Kyle made it clear enough this isn't about anything more than sex knowing what's between them, that's the moment Stan should've cut him off. But he didn't, with some sick fantasy that it could be something more. It never was.

In the beginning, having him for one night was enough and he didn't think much about him after he left. But after every secret rendezvous, it was getting increasingly harder and harder to watch him leave. Until he realized there were feelings towards him in Kyle's heart too. Kyle was able to cut those feelings out. Stan wasn't. 

This relationship didn't bring any feelings. And that's okay. It just brought the benefit of sex and the thrill they got, knowing it's like their little forbidden romance. The moment Stan brought feeling into it, it was over. 

Stan looked thorough his contacts and saw Kyle’s name. He deleted his number.

Stan swirled the frothed milk into his cup, checking the time. It was too early, too early to be thinking about this. But it was all he thought about when he woke up and went to sleep. He went back to bed, sitting on the edge with a cup in his hand.

He wondered how long it's going to take him to get his emotions in check. He felt empty, sucked out. He gave Kyle everything and he gave back so little of his feelings and of himself. He was selfish when Stan decided to give him everything. He took it, giving nothing back. He wondered whether he'd find someone so electrifying and intoxicating ever again.

Probably not.

Stan knew he shouldn't have opened up his heart to him so much. That he shouldn't have given him so much when all Kyle did was took. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help that sometimes, he wanted to give him the world.

But it was over now. Stan wanted to stop thinking about it. But he couldn't. He was looking for an escape route but each was blocked by Kyle. He tried to get him out of his head. Our of his feelings. Out of his life if that's necessary. Whatever. 

_After the party, I'm waking up with a cappuccino_   
_I'm chasing away the shame of yesterday_   
_with nicotine_   
_he woke up next to me, not him_   
_I feel tequila and wine hitting my head_

Stan blew the smoke into the night, watching over the town. He liked looking over the glittering city lights. Clyde asked him if he wants another drink. He agreed. After the whole night, it was just two of them on his balcony again. Stan felt the pleasant burning in his lungs and on his lips, indulging in the simple pleasures. 

Clyde came back, handing him his glass while sipping from his own. He took the place next to him, leaning his back on the railing. He was glad Stan stayed around after the party. It was nice to have someone near while you're coming down from the night spent celebrating. He listened to Stan talk about his little affair a few days ago, glad he's his confidential contact. 

He glanced back at his friend, seeing he's twisting a little paper between his fingers. “What's that?”

“For rainy nights,” Stan smiled, looking at the raindrops bounce off of the railing and put the paper back into his pocket.


	13. If They're Gunning At You, You're Winning PT 1 [M]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Kyle and Stan managed to find a crowbar, beat The Incinerator, save a city, find a crate of shitty beer and outsmart military in just a few easy steps.

“Christ, you can't be serious!” Stan whined, throwing his controller to the opposite side of the couch. “I'm not doing another boss battle!” he yelled, pointing at the paused screen. With horror in his eyes, he checked out the fifth villain they had to defeat. The fifth one today, that is.

“Come on, Stan, it's the last boss battle,” Kyle pleaded, giving Stan the puppy eyes he knew always worked. He was deadset on finishing the game today. He'd do it alone. But it was so much more fun with Stan there to help him shoot the monsters and give him a first aid kit when needed. And also to throw his blame on someone when he gets killed. Unfortunately, Kyle got killed a little too often. (Oftentimes preceded by him saying ‘do you think this will kill me?’ or ‘I'm going to try to jump off of this cliff’).

“It was the last boss battle the past seven times!” 

“Look at him, I'm sure this is the last one! Please,” Kyle sang, poking Stan's leg until he agreed and crawled back for his controller. He felt like his brain is going to implode after five hours of sitting in front of the stupid TV. ABut after seeing the thunderstorm that was rolling in, both were glad they decided to stay inside. 

The rain was falling into the windows and here and there they could hear a clap of thunder. The summer break was getting to them, spending most of their days like this. But today's weather was perfect for a hot drink and a bunch of blankets. And hours of video games. 

Stan looked outside but he couldn't even see the house on the opposite side of the street. It was raining so hard but it was still so hot, he decided to open the window. “If you flood my room, you're dealing with the damages,” Kyle warned him. Stan didn't listen to him, hanging out of the window to enjoy the humid air and the smell of rain falling on hot pavement. 

“Here's your hot chocolate,” Kyle handed him his drink. It'd be harder to pull him away from the window than make him defeat the last boss with only a knife. 

As Stan was taking the cup from Kyle, lighting crashed onto, what they assumed, was Kyle's house. It flashed a ray of blinding light all over the street, the whole world disappearing in a sea of white for a second. They heard a deafening thunder roll through the house before everything went black.

*

Stan blinked his eyes open, his vision still a little blurry. He jumped back when he saw a figure standing over him, realizing after a while it's Kyle. He looked just as terrified. 

“Dude, what the fuck.”

“What is going on?” Kyle whispered, peeked around the little shack they found themselves in. He woke up a little sooner than Stan, laying paralyzed in fear for a few minutes. He was so terrified looking up at the rotting wooden planks above him, he couldn't move a muscle. It took him a lot of convincing and a lot of breathing to even turn his head to the side and find Stan. He laid on the floor next to him.

Seeing him in the same place as he gave him a little bit of courage. He sat up, his head buzzing in pain. Kyle tried to take a look around but he couldn't see a thing, except the little lamp in the dark corner. Kyle tried to wake up Stan, calling his name and shaking him. At first, it did nothing, the poor boy worried he might be dead. But he tore his eyes open are here they were.

“Where the hell... Where... are we?” Stan stood up, scanning the room. It was cold and wet, it seemed as if it was raining outside. “What's the last thing you remember?” Stan ran his hands over his face, trying to piece together what happened. 

“We... We were playing video games, right?” Kyle rubbed his temples. “And, um, what... And then you opened the window and... The lighting and now we are... here?” 

Stan nodded, that was the last thing he remembered too. He helped Kyle stand up and searched around for a point to jump off of and figure out this situation. Who brought them here? Where were they? Most importantly, how do they get home?

Kyle took the courtesy of walking over to the table with the lamp, seeing it's empty. He opened the drawers while Stan saw a door in the dark. “Shit!” Kyle yelled from behind, seeing Stan shaking and kicking the door. 

“What's wrong?”

“There's a padlock!” Stan rammed into them with his shoulder, he then tried to kick the lock off. Nothing helped. Kyle came over to help but the door was impossibly sturdy. It didn't even budge, even though the whole shack smelled of rot. The boards under their feet dangerously creaked. “Unbelieva-... Wait, what are you wearing?” Stan pulled at Kyle's sleeve. He'd never seen him in something like that. 

“What do you me- Oh shit. Is this a leather jacket?”

“But you don't own a leather jacket. And are you... You're wearing a... You're wearing a wifebeater underneath? Ew,” Stan moaned, patting Kyle down underneath his jacket. He did the same, confusion and terror only growing in his eyes. 

He patted down Stan's chest too, not seeing a thing in the dark. “A shirt and...” he tugged on the leather straps he found on his shoulders. “A harness?” 

“What?” Stan patted his shoulders, indeed finding a leather harness with a pocket. It seemed like it was fit for a gun but it was empty. “I'm lost, dude.”

Stan searched his pockets. Kyle did the same but they didn't find anything. Until Kyle victoriously yelled, pulling out a paper from his jean pocket. They ran over to the lamp to solve the mystery of their disappearance. But the paper appeared blank. Stan ran his fingers over it to realize there's something scratched into it. 

“I need a pencil.” Kyle returned to the drawers, almost ripping them out of the table. They were too occupied with solving the puzzle to let fear knock them down. Kyle couldn't shake off the feeling this was a little too familiar. 

“Ah!” Kyle yelled, Stan turning his eyes to him.

“A pencil?”

“No! Boltcutters!” Kyle held them above his head, running to the door to cut them free. The moment the lock hit the floor, the boltcutters disappeared from his hands. Stan was standing right behind when it happened. Kyle screaming and dropping to the floor to look for them wasn't too strange. “Where? Did... Did they disappear?” he mumbled, feeling the floor to find them. 

Stan's mind turned off, he couldn't give this situation one more thought. Where were they? Who knew. They had ugly outfits and disappearing boltcutters, he didn't care. How were they going to get out? Sheesh, tough question. He dropped on his knees to help his friend, finding something in the corner. “Oh shit.”

“What is it?”

“A flashlight.”

“That's great! Turn it on, I can't see shit.”

“There... there are no batteries,” he mumbled, hitting the flashlight against his hand. Yeah, they were doomed. 

Kyle finally stood up, grabbing the lamp from the table and shining it at the room, as far as the cable let them. It seems like they already found whatever there was. “Doesn't this... seem familiar to you?”

“Yeah, it's almost like the game we played yesterday,” Stan laughed, realizing how absurd he sounds. He opened the creaking door and peeked outside, staring into dark woods.

“Yeah, but doesn't that seem ridiculous? Who'd orchestrate something like this.” Kyle followed him, glad it's still day outside. There wasn't much light peeking through the treetops. All they could see were trees, trees, trees, and a dusty path leading from the cottage. Kyle wondered if this was some kind of a manic fantasy that some serial killer prepared. He wouldn't be surprised, maybe someone has an obsession with... video games?

It'd explain why and how they woke up in that decaying shed. 

But it'd also be pretty terrifying.

“What do we do now?” Kyle whispered, staring into the great unknown. They could go left, right, along the path, around the shack... He didn't like all these options. Stan still seemed a little frozen, possibly from the lightning hit. Kyle appreciated him keeping a cold head while he was freaking out inside. Sure, he wanted to scream but how would that help.

“Let's take a look around,” Stan suggested, taking a sharp left turn but something stopping him in his tracks. Kyle turned to him when he heard a dull bang, only seeing Stan on the ground next to some janky wooden boxes. 

Kyle helped him get back on his feet. Stan couldn't stop the obscenities that left his lips. Kyle stood up and went to the invisible wall that threw Stan back. He touched it, there didn't seem to be anything there but his hand couldn't go past a certain point. He banged on it, only hearing the same noise as when Stan fell. He kicked it, tried to go a few feet further, desperately wanting to get through but to no avail. The wall wouldn't let them.

“Okay, this is seriously getting weird.” Quiet. That's when he heard the slow ambient music playing from the background. There were no speakers, for Christ's sake. None! Yet he heard the music wherever he went, further from the cabin, closer to the cabin. He must be hallucinating. “Do you hear that?” he asked, Stan, swirling his finger around in the air. He was getting sick of things making less and less sense with each second. 

“I mean I...I hear something,” Stan took a closer listen, finally hearing the music too. Was he on an acid trip? Were they drugged hard? Was this some kind of simulation? He took a rock, throwing it as high as possible. It didn't hit a ceiling, so they probably were in woods. The wind seemed so real and fresh, it'd be ridiculous if someone fabricated that. 

But how could he know they were hearing the same thing? He tried to hum the melody, not exactly hitting the notes but Kyle nodded his head, hearing the same thing. Okay, at least they weren't hallucinating that part. 

The boxes by the cabin looked suspicious. They looked too weak to even be standing. Stan took it upon himself to give them a good kick. The boxes immediately broke into thousands of splinters. Kyle stared at him with an open mouth, there's no way in hell boxes in real life would disintegrate like that. The splinters soon disappeared, leaving on the ground a shining pile of... batteries? And a crowbar?

“Wha-...” Stan picked them up and stuffed the batteries into the flashlight. Kyle was now stuck with the crowbar.

“This is a bad sign.”

“This is a very bad sign.”

There was nowhere else left to go but the path that led them away from the cottage. Kyle gripped the weapon but his sweaty hands were making it difficult. Finding a crowbar was never a good sign. 

The first minutes of their walk were quite peaceful. The gravel rumbled under their feet and they were gradually calming down. Even though everything that has happened has been so incredibly absurd. They didn't speak much, too focused on what's going to happen. There were no animals around which was great. They couldn't get off the chosen path, the invisible walls around everywhere they went. 

They came to what seemed was a parking barrier, even with the red and white stripes. The road seemed to widen behind it but it was immersed in a thick cloud of black. They couldn't see past it. 

“What now?”

“I mean... we jump over it, right?” Stan suggested, trying to put his leg over the barricade but it only hit the invisible wall. He tried again, he tried to slip under it, he tried going around but to no avail. He couldn't pass it. 

He tried again, kicking the wall in front of him. He tried to lift it up with Kyle's help but it wouldn't budge. Kyle tried to bash it with the crowbar or jumping over. Nothing worked. “Shit. What now?”

“I... Screws. It seems like we need a screwdriver,” Kyle whined, hitting the bar with his crowbar out of frustration. “Where in the cold hell are we getting a screwdriver?”

The music changed. They both felt the hairs on their necks stand up, the dark, fast music sending shivers down their spines. Both boys exchanged worried looks, knowing damn well what this means. 

They stood back to back, Kyle gripping the crowbar in both hands and Stan holding the flashlight. Their eyes ran from one tree to the other, not sure what to expect. Kyle thought he'd faint, his heart was beating so fast. One more minute of this suspense and he's out cold again. He tried to stop himself from shaking but feeling Stan's trembling back against his didn't help. The air suddenly felt much colder too.

That's when he saw it. A pair of glowing eyes coming from the black cloud that hung over the path. They came closer and closer, the beast slowly stepping out of the fog.

This is how they die, ran over their minds. They're dead meat. 

Kyle stared at the monster that was slowly approaching them. It seemed like a wolf but his jaws unhinged in a way a snake's jaw would. It was dripping in red, probably from his last victim. He could see the beast salivating and growling, showing him a few rows of sharp teeth. “What's happening,” Stan whispered, he didn't see the wolf. He had his back turned. 

Kyle didn't want to tell him, hoping it'll go fast and painless. The beast was preparing for takeoff, digging its enormous paw into the gravel. Kyle couldn't help but get into a defense position. He wasn't quite sure why he was even going to fight this monstrosity. It easily reached his torso and he had no doubt it'd tear them up in seconds. The fur on its back didn't even look like fur, rather sharp spikes sticking out every which way. 

The beast took a few steps back, preparing for a jump. Kyle saw his life flash before his eyes but something in his brain took over, engaging in fighter mode. He couldn't flight, so he's going to fight. The beast opened its jaws, giving Kyle a good look at its squirming tongue and bloody teeth, every crevice in its jaw turning in an unnatural way. It let out a monstrous roar, Stan's knees buckling in fear. He didn't see him but he could hear and smell the beast. Oh God, the smell, it was like rotting meat. 

He heard some rumbling. In almost the same moment, he heard Kyle let out a loud yell and swing at the beast just as it was about to dig his teeth into him. He had one shot to hit the animal midair and he took it, swinging with all his might and throwing the beast aside.

Kyle didn't expect to be covered in a black liquid, smelling even worse than the animal itself. They both turned at the wolf laying on the ground. It was twitching but finally liquified and disappeared. Kyle's stress came in rushing all at once, he fell to the ground and wiped the goo off of his face. What has just happened? 

Stan took the chance to grab whatever was left in a familiar shining pile from the beast, holding out a screwdriver. He was getting a little sick of this. 

He helped Kyle stand up and wipe him down with his own shirt. He looked shaken but not nearly as much as Stan would imagine him to be after slaying a beast like that. “Are you okay?” he held his shoulders, trying to shake him out of his little trance. They need to move forward, who knows how many beasts are in this forest. 

Kyle took a few moments to get his thoughts straight, trying to get his breath in check. After he was finally able to take a full breath, he nodded and they dismantled the barrier. It was finally Stan's time to use his flashlight, navigating between the trees and fog. He passed something on his left, camping ground with a little tent nearby. He grabbed Kyle's arm and pulled him towards it, hoping to find more supplies, or at least an answer. 

He shone the light at the campfire, not finding anything useful. Kyle wanted to go look into the tent but Stan refused to let him go alone. He looked around the area some more, pulling his whining friend around. Kyle knew if they were going to find something useful, it's going to be in the tent. 

When he finally got his way, he turned the place upside down. They found some food and a syringe, both pretty terrible signs. Kyle dug out a metal box that was hidden under the covers but it was locked. “Dude, we don't have time to guess the code.”

But the box seemed pretty important for them to move on forwards. They sat in the tent, brainstorming what to do next. An idea hit Stan's head like a rock. He ran out of the tent, leaving Kyle behind. He was still a shaking mess and leaving him alone in a dark tent didn't help. Stan returned with a piece of coal, handing Kyle the flashlight.

It didn't click until Stan pulled out the paper Kyle found in his jeans in the cottage. He ran over it with coal and revealing a series of numbers. Their hearts sang in joy when they put the numbers in, the silver case popping open. Their hearts sunk into their chests when they realized what was inside.

A gun.

A whole gun with a pack of bullets.

Kyle dropped the case, holding his hands up. He tried to push the case as far from him as he could. Finding a gun was an even worse sign. He couldn't even say what was going through his mind at the moment. It was both, a big mess and full of curses. Is something worse than the wolf coming?

“Who... W-Who is taking the gun,” Stan mumbled, examining the weapon in his hands. He's never handled one before, how are they going to work this out? How do you even load this thing? He shook the bullets in their package. They rumbled and he counted around fifteen.

Kyle kept his distance, watching Stan casually load the gun, checking the safety, and pointing it at the other side of the tent. “What... Did you just do.” 

“I don't know,” Stan absent-mindedly answered, still observing the weapon. It just occurred to him how easily he reloaded it and now was ready to shoot. How did he know how to work it so easily? “It just... I just did it.” Maybe it was because of the harness he was wearing. He was sure if they looked some more, they could find his badge. “I think I'm supposed to be like... a cop or something?”

“Okay, this is insane.” Kyle left the tent with a sigh. He shone the flashlight around, seeing if there are any more dangers. The flashlight and crowbar were now his duty, Stan keeping the heavy weapons. 

They wanted nothing more than to get out of there. The dark fog was obstructing their view, the light only shining so far. It was quiet and the music was still peaceful. It was a good sign but it made it that much more stressful when the combat music started. 

They sneaked through the forest with linked arms, trying to keep as quiet as possible. They turned at the movement of every leaf, every blade of grass. There were no boxes, no glowing piles on their way but the number of supplies they found earlier made it suspicious.

They finally came to a clearing when the dark mist disappeared. Hovering over them was a tall radio tower. There was a booth on top, possibly with some kind of communication device. Their hearts perked up with hope. The tower was their saving point. 

The ladders that led up looked terrifying but the premise of signaling to someone that they're here and they're stranded was a strong driver. This looked like their way out. 

They arrived at the bottom, a high fence separating them from the area. They considered hopping over but the barbed wire and the possibility of another invisible wall or getting shocked were too high. Kyle searched for a rock, trying to throw it over. It bounced right back off the invisible barrier and came down to where it came from. 

The gate was locked and there wasn't a lock to shoot. Kyle took notice of the electrical box nearby, hoping he can dismantle it somehow, shutting the electricity off and opening the gate for them. There seemed to be a cable going from the box to the gate. 

“Do you think I should shoot it?” Stan suggested. It was always his solution in video games. He didn't wait for an answer, aiming at the metal box and pulling the trigger.

It did nothing except repelling the bullet. Not even a scratch. Kyle couldn't help slapping Stan's wrist lightly, telling him to save the bullets. It seemed as if the box needed to be dismantled. “Came you give me the screwdriver,” he stuck his hand out, going to work immediately.

It will take some time and Stan took the opportunity to take a look around the area. He thought he saw some boxes behind the radio tower, maybe he'd find some more supplies. He briefly told Kyle where he was going, the boy too focused on the electrical box to even listen. 

There was no wall to stop him so he took it as a good sign. There were at least five boxes stacked behind the tower, Stan excitedly running to them and smashing them down. The splinters disappeared after seconds, just as they did before. He bent down to search through the piles, pulling out another box of bullets and some coins. There was a pile that shone blue, though, Stan picking up a nicely cut blue gem. 

It was strange, he twisted it between his fingers and put it against the sun to look at it. He didn't know why, it's just something he saw in movies. 

And then the music changed. 

He heard the same combat beats as before when the wolf appeared. He shoved the gem into his pocket, pulling out his gun from the harness. He didn't even have the chance to turn around and aim, something big tackling him to the ground. Stan dropped the gun, falling behind with the beast on top. It smelled as bad as before. He fell on his back, pinned to the ground with the beast's paws on his chest. He couldn't breathe or scream.

Kyle was turning the screws with a tool that didn't seem to fit, always falling out of the hole. He barely noticed the music change but something felt wrong. He took his crowbar, sneaking to the tower. The monster's roars spread out through the whole forest. Kyle picked up his pace, running to the boxes. His worst thoughts came to true, he was still far away but aside from the wolf's cries and howls, he could also hear Stan's screaming. 

Kyle was almost grounded by the sight of the monster gnawing on Stan's arm, his friend turning and pulling on it, crying for help. His gun was thrown away and he was trying to reach it but the beast's teeth were keeping him in one spot. 

Kyle didn't waste any more seconds, seeing all the blood that was spilling out of the wound. The wolf shook its head, trying to pull off more meat. Kyle grabbed the gun, not daring to look into Stan's scared eyes. 

Before he knew it, he fired three shots into the beast's head. It fell back without any more roars, liquifying just as it did before. Stan kept still on the ground, holding his arm. He could've died.

He really could've died. 

Kyle held him up, trying to catch his breath. “Are you okay? Where.... Where are the marks,” he searched his friend's arm. It seemed fine. His shirt was torn but his skin was intact. 

“What?” Stan patted his arm, feeling his skin is, in fact, still together. But just seconds ago the beast was bone-deep in his arm, he could feel it, he could feel it ripping it apart muscle by muscle and the blood flowing out and his voice running out from screaming for help.

He was still sitting in a pool of blood but there was no wound, not even a scratch. “Am I... okay?” he whispered, trying to stand up. With some help he did, holding onto his friend. Stan wanted to take a few steps but one of his legs gave out, shooting pain from his ankle to his thigh. He almost fell, Kyle catching him.

“Did it bite your leg?” Kyle checked but it seemed okay too. Stan tried to walk but couldn't without a limp. 

“Are they serious?”

“Seems like you're low on health,” Kyle had to hide his chuckle, this wasn't the right situation. He searched his pockets, pulling out the syringe they found in the tent.

“You're not serious,” Stan backed away with wide eyes, seeing Kyle examine it and shake up the liquid inside. “That can not be safe. Of hygienic.”

“I mean it's green. That's usually for health, no?”

“I'm not getting injected with some piss needle we found in the woods, Kyle.”

“It's how it works in... this world.”

“No!”

“Come on, we don't know if your health is still running out. I can't have you die in here, I can't.”

“I... Jesus, I guess I'm dying either way. Stick it in,” he gave Kyle his arm, awaiting the sting.

“Where do... I... How?” Kyle pushed out a little bit of the liquid, turning Stan's arm around and back. He had no idea how to stuck a needle in. 

“Wherever.”

“But-”

“It doesn't matter in video games. Just ram it in,” Stan gritted his teeth, feeling the needle in his forearm. Kyle didn't take ‘ram it in’ lightly, the needle might as well come out of the other side of his arm. 

“How do you feel?”

Stan didn't respond for a while, feeling a wave of heat go up from his ankle toes to his head, Stan shaking the feeling off. He felt his body suddenly relax and release whatever tension there was. He hasn't felt this great in a while. “I... I feel great,” he stood up, leaving Kyle glad but even more dumbfounded than before. 

They managed to climb up to the top of the tower. There was a little radio room on top but the equipment was useless. Both tried to press every button and every switch they found, the radio still dead. Kyle couldn't hide his frustration, taking his crowbar and bashing it against the headboard. Stan had to stop him but he got it. This was their only way out. 

“We're fucking dead,” Kyle sat on the rusty chair the operator used years ago. He felt all hope leave his body. That's it, they were done for.

We... We might not be.” Stan walked over to the back wall, just noticing the two levers, two feet apart from each other. 

“How so?”

“Come here,” he dragged Kyle up, touching the lever lightly. It was real, that was great. This might be their way out. Stan didn't want to seem hopeful but he could almost see them back in Kyle's room. “We're going to pull together,” he instructed Kyle, sticking his hand out. “Hold my hand.”

“Why?”

“You held the controller in one hand and the mug in the other, I held the mug and got... Struck by lightning or whatever. I'm not teleporting myself into another world without you.” He knew he wouldn't be able to use the syringe on himself, anyway. 

It sounded insane, all Stan needed was a corkboard and some red lines connecting one picture to the other. But it was the only explanation Kyle had and he went with it. At least they were in it together.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

They pulled the lever and the whole world went black again.

*

Stan was the first to wake up this time. He looked up at the clear sky, his head didn't hurt as much as before. It was a pleasant sight to see, he was glad to be back. He lifted his arms up, seeing black gloves. 

The adrenaline took over once again, Stan shooting up and looking at the black jumpsuit he was wearing. He scrambled around, finding only what seemed to be his mask. Kyle was passed out next to him on the grass, dressed in some... apocalyptic combat armor. That's the only way Stan could describe it. But it was so colorful. He looked around the world. There wasn't much except a few boxes and a hoard approaching in the distance. 

Oh no.

Stan tried to shake his friend awake, noticing the bodies laying around them. He didn’t see them before. Nor did he see the bullet wounds or the blood pooling around them. He shook Kyle harder, the boy finally waking up. “Great, where are we now?” he rubbed his forehead, checking out what he’s wearing. It might be a clue at this point. 

“Oh, Stan.”

“What?”

“Your-... hair. Why is your hair green?”

“What?” he yelled, running his hands over his hair, the hairstyle seemed to stay the same. He picked up his face mask, using it as a mirror. “Y- Why is your hair bright red?” he threw the mask to Kyle, watching him look in horror and patting his head.

“Oh no, Stan.”

“What?”

“Oh shit, dude.”

“What?!”

“I think _we’re_ the main characters.”

Stan looked back at the horde that was approaching, realizing what it meant. They're coming for them. “No... no, no,” he whispered, launching towards the loot boxes around them. He pushed the big button in the middle, the box flipping open. Nothing but bullets. “Help me!” he yelled at Kyle who was standing by, confused by the sudden stress.

“Wha-”

“Gun! Get a gun!” Stan continued with opening the boxes around them, finding nothing but bullets. Kyle took it upon himself to go check the bodies, as horrible as that idea sounded. It was hard to search, the midday sun beaming into his eyes. It strangely crashed with the bloodbath that was in front of him. 

“Here!” he yelled, picking up a pistol from the ground. He threw it at Stan, not having two thoughts about... well... not throwing a gun. Stan immediately loaded it, trying a few warning shots. It shot surprisingly smoothly, the bullets exploding in the distance. Stan stopped for a second, baffled by the explosive bullets. 

“Did you see that?” he yelled after his friend, twisting the gun in his hand. It did seem to be a little larger than the gun from... the last game. Kyle shook his head, holding up an insanely big shotgun. He slowly looked up at Stan to reassure himself that they're both seeing the same thing. It shone in a bright red, reflecting the sun every which way. It gleamed blue and green in some places. Kyle wondered how he even held it up. 

Stan threw him a pack of bullets, Kyle magically loading it. He didn't even know how. He aimed it at the trees behind them, shooting. He didn't expect three bullets to come blasting out, let alone those bullets being on fire. He barely held back a scream, seeing them hit the tree and burn shortly.

He was barely holding it up, it was so heavy. But it kinda matched with his techno apocalyptic raver armor. Or... Whatever he had on. It looked like the world was ending but he was still having fun.

The yells coming from behind the hill brought him back to reality, both of them running into the woods for cover. They peeked from behind the trees, seeing at least twenty men approaching. This didn't seem like a conflict they were going to survive. Stan was backing up, thinking of an escape route. He stepped on something, picking the circular object up. “The hell is this,” he showed it to Kyle, noticing a little timer on the top. It was counting down from ten.

If the years of playing video games taught Stan anything, it was that anything with a timer is best off as far from you as possible. He chucked the orb at the crowd that was approaching them. It softly landed in the grass. Stan thought it was nothing but the globe exploded, pulling in the men from the front lines of the horde and covering them in a fiery cloud. They could barely hear their screams as the men were burned alive.

Kyle held a hand over his mouth, he thought he was going to throw up. He knew it'd be gruesome but this exceeded his expectations. Their positions were now revealed, the men wasting no time pointing their guns at the trees and shooting away.

Kyle already felt the bullets tearing him apart but nothing came through the trees. He touched the wood, it was just regular wood. What... What kind of tree doesn't let bullets through? 

They heard a small scream coming towards them, both boys running further and hiding behind opposing trees. The skinny being ran right between the trees they were hiding behind, Kyle taking the courtesy and firing his shotgun. It threw the savage away, almost instantly disappearing into a bunch of pixels, up into the sky. 

They hoped the rest of the crowd will be just as easy, peeking over and seeing raiders who were easily over seven feet tall. There were no more grenades for them to throw. It was between them and their guns now. 

Stan felt a little pinch on his wrist. He looked down and saw a watch on his hand. He wasn't sure, though, he tried to move it but it didn't budge. It was installed in his skin. His first instinct was to rip it out but he took a few deep breaths, trying not to freak out about the chip in his wrist. He pushed the button, hoping he's aiming right. He had gloves on and it was hard to press precisely on the little screen. 

The chip took a few seconds, an exact copy of his pistol appearing in his other hand. He looked up at his friend who was watching the scene with open mouth, another copy of his shotgun appearing in his own hands. “Wow,” he mouthed at his friend, holding up the two shotguns with an amazed look. 

Stan waved his index fingers at him, telling him to throw his guns over. And Kyle did and so did Stan in what turned out was the most unbelievable gun exchange ever made. He caught the two shotguns, no worries and so did Kyle with the pistols. Stan took a few deep breaths, stepping out of the cover and opening fire. 

Kyle followed the lead, kneeling down and shooting. The horde was falling one by one, not even yelling out at this point. 

It went great until they realized they were out of bullets. Stan desperately pulled the trigger, catching a few bullets himself. He quickly hid behind the tree, examining his arms and chest. That's where he felt the bullets. Once again, no bullet wounds. “Why am I always the one getting hurt?” he whined, brushing off his jumpsuit.

“What now?” Kyle yelled, pulling the trigger on his own pistols but nothing came out. The horde was almost at their level now. 

“Use your button!” 

“What?”

“Button!” Kyle examined his wrists, almost looking over it. It was blended in his sleeve. He pushed it a few times, nothing happening. His excitement dropped, why wasn't his button doing anything?

He looked at the field, a little sprinkler rising up from the ground. Oh, is he a gardener character? Is he going to take care of the little hills and gardens? He looked at Stan with a disgusted look, turning away when the sprinkler started to spin dangerously fast. It whirred for a while before starting a shower of bullets everywhere around. That was the end of it.

After the hellfire ended, they were finally brave enough to take a look at the mayhem they unleashed. The bodies were slowly disappearing, leaving behind loot. 

Kyle took an SMG with him, another weapon with flaming bullets. Stan opted for another shotgun. This one was green and didn't shine as nicely. 

They weren't sure where to go but following the beam of light that shone from somewhere in the distance up into the sky seemed like a decent idea. 

“I never want to take this off,” Stan remarked, making his way through the hills and overseeing the city beneath them. It seemed like an outpost, except huge. The sun was setting but it seemed like they'd make it before the night sets in. 

“Why?”

“Do you see my legs in this?”

“Meh.”

“You're just saying that because of your gardening skill.”

“It's-... Not a gardening skill!”

“Okay, sprinkler-boy. Duplicating our guns seems like a hell of a better idea, I tell you that.”

“Yeah, until you're out of bullets, no? Didn't you get shot or something, anyway?”

“Yeah but... This blue vial I picked. I think it somehow... I don't know. I'm better now”

Before they knew it, they were standing in front of a big gate. They barely saw the top of it, it was so huge. Also, the giant skull with a gaping mouth that served as an entrance didn't seem too welcoming. Neither were the fires blazing along the entrance. “How do we get in?”

“We... Buzz?” Kyle suggested, pushing the red button on the speaker by the gate. It let out an uncomfortable hum. 

“Who is't dares to ent'r the arena?” a screeching voice asked. “Art thee brave enow to dare our champion? Or prepareth f'r destruction! Destruction! Destruction!”

“Um... Hi. Yeah, sure. Quick question, you have any levers inside?”

“What?” the voice asked quietly, now in a normal tone.

“Y'all have any levers inside? Like... Two would be best.”

“I mean... W- Yeah. Yeah, we do somewhere in the control room. But... But you have to defeat the champion first, okay? I'm not letting you inside unless you agree to battle.” Quiet. “You still there? Should I... Sign you guys into the tournament?”

“Yeah, we're... in,” Kyle gave Stan a confused look, he accidentally signed them into a death match but it seems like the only way out. 

”People! gaze'rs! We has't volunte'rs! Prepareth f'r carnage! Bloodshed! Slaught'r!” the voice roared through the arena, the audience howling in excitement. The gates opened and they were lead to a metal gate. It seems like they've chosen the wrong entrance, the wrong being the one for the fighters. 

The gate rolled up and they were greeted with an enormous arena, at least a few thousand members sitting in the audience. They stepped in, getting booed as soon as the reflectors shone on them. It wasn’t a great feeling.

They almost couldn’t even see the other side of the arena. The bloodied sand crunches under their feet, bodies of fallen fighters swept in corners. Okay, this seems exponentially more difficult than killing a wolf monster. 

A small platform rose from the middle, out stepped a tiny man with a mic in his hand. He wore goggles and a chain mail shirt, covering his face with a dirty scarf. 

“Ladies and gentlemen and daws,” he screeched with that awful voice again. Both boys came closer, the man signaling to them to make their way to the center of the arena. “Tonight we introduceth! To the Thund'rdome! Green meat, view'rs! Green meat!” The MC turned at the boys. “What are your names,” he whispered, shielding the mic. God forbid the world knows he sounds like an actual human being. 

“Kyle and Stan,” Kyle whispered back.

The man looked at them with a mix of confusion and disappointment. “_Seriously_?”

Kyle shook his shoulders. Well, those were their names. 

“Lame,” the man mumbled to himself, still loud enough for them to hear. “Tonight we introduceth Kyle and Stan!” he yelled into the mic, the crowd booing even louder. 

“Dueling our champion! the mast'r of destruction! The unbeaten slaught'r'r! Mayhem! Anarchy!” the announcer turned to the other gate. The crowd’s boos soon turned into loud cheering. 

Neither of the boys liked how this was sounding.

“Ernest the Destructor the Invincible the Terrible!” 

“What?” Stan leaned in while the other gate was opening. 

“He couldn’t pick one name so we let him keep them all because we didn’t want to make him sad,” the host whispered, turning his attention to the gate. “'r as we calleth that gent h're, The Incinerator!”

Kyle understood why their names sounded so lame. You’ve got Kyle and Stan versus Ernest the Destructor the Invincible the Terrible, also known as The Incinerator. 

Yeah sure, it was dumb. But Kyle was also so ready to get the hell out of a world where Stan has incredibly great legs in that stupid jumpsuit and he only had a stupid sprinkler skill. 

They didn't know what or who to expect. Stress was brewing up between them with each second that nothing happened.

Kyle felt some heat on his back. He wasn't sure if he wanted to turn around but he tried to catch the scene with the corner of his eye, seeing the head of a massive gun pointed at his back. It wasn't even a gun, it was spitting flames everywhere.

So this is The Incinerator.

Kyle grabbed Stan's arm and pulled them out of the way, both landing harshly in the dust. Before he knew it, the place where they stood was now engulfed in flames. They barely made it out without getting roasted. 

“Alloweth the hurlyburly beginneth!” the host yelled, running back to his pod and escaping to a viewing room. 

It's getting serious now. 

Stan took a good look at their enemy. At eight feet, he was hovering over both of them. Where they looked, there was a muscle. Arm muscle. Leg muscle. Neck muscle. Orbital bone muscle. He looked made up, no one's neck can be that thick. He wore little sunglasses and a scarf and was completely bald, probably from the flamethrowers he carried, one in each hand. As if that wasn't enough, it seemed as the man was spitting fire. The area around his mouth was burnt to a crisp, so were his arms. 

They felt the ground shake when he took steps towards them. Kyle was sure he could crush his skull with just his hand. He grabbed his measly gun, pushing Stan to the other direction. They barely jumped away before he could stomp on them. 

He can't get both of them if they're in opposing corners, right? 

The man rammed his flamethrowers on the ground, pointing each to the opposite directions. The flames blazed through the whole arena, the crowd roaring in excitement as he turned and burned. 

Neither of the boys knew how to even lay a hand on this monster. Stan dispatched his skill, well aware that bullets might not work against this guy. He pointed the barrels at his back, not even bothering to aim properly. And he just shot away.

The bullets pierced his back but he didn't even budge. They were leaving behind an acidic smell, Stan wondered what that was. The holes in his back were dripping with acid and skin tissue but he was still blowing fires out of every orifice, making his way towards Kyle. 

Stan could hear his wicked laugh. Kyle wasn't too far away from the man now. His head was rapidly bobbing to the back. Stan took a run for it, just now seeing Kyle kneeling in the gravel and having a perfect aim at the man. Even with two guns, he kept them perfectly on the target. He didn't budge when he saw the man point the flamethrowers at him, roaring and spitting fire around. 

At the last second, he jumped to the side but the man was quicker, the flames following him. He felt the shirt underneath his armor burn and his armor heat up and scorch the skin underneath. He tried to put it out, eventually ripping the armor off of him. He continued to run, at least far enough so the flames won't reach him.

They knew they had to find another tactic as guns won't do much damage against him. Kyle caught up with his friend, checking if he's okay. The man was getting closer, picking up his pace. He had them both between the crosshairs. “The fuck do we do,” Stan yelled, blasting some more shots into the beast. Hope left bit by bit with each bullet that did absolutely nothing. 

“I... I might have a plan,” Kyle yelled as he was running away, pulling Stan with him. The crowd booed, noises of disapproval filling the arena. They wanted them dead, they wanted entertainment. 

They could hear the host firing them up, yelling ‘slaughter’ and ‘bloodshed’. ‘Finish them’ seemed to get The Incinerator excited too, running faster and shooting fire everywhere. 

Kyle saw a little concrete tube in the far corner of the arena, pulling his friend to safety. 

“Three.” The boys didn't know what the countdown was for. They ran, not looking back.

“Two.” Stan saw spray nozzles lower from the ceiling, all around the fighting area. 

“One!” Stan picked up his pace to what he deemed was impossible speed, pulling his friend with him. He almost slid onto the gravel, sliding with his face down but managed to stay up. They felt heat gathering up. The tube was only a few feet away.

“Hell from the above!” 

The boys barely managed to slide in, looking at the entrance to the tube as it was covered in flames. The whole arena was now bathing in the fire, the nozzles spinning and turning to scorch everything in sight. They knew for sure the man wouldn't be affected.

The heat coming from the fire was unbearable, they felt like they might die if this continues for any longer. Kyle couldn't help but grip Stan's hand, both ducking and curling into each other in the middle of the tube to keep themselves as far from the flames and as small as possible.

The nozzles shot back up, fire ended. A strong ventilator spun right above them. They heard the steps coming closer, the man's incomprehensible mumbling louder and louder. 

“What's the plan?”

“Trip him. Face down.” 

“What?!”

“Just do it!” Kyle yelled, exiting the tube. Stan followed suit, but soon the man caught up with Kyle. He swung his flamethrower at him, hitting him right across the face. Stan couldn't help but watch in horror as Kyle got thrown against a wall. He slid down, not moving much. The crowd cheered in excitement, one vermin was finally down. 

He wanted to run to him and help but the man quickly turned at Stan, showing him he's next.

Kyle laid on the gravel, looking up as the man was leaving to take Stan out. This was the chance. Stan hoped he'd swing at him too if the man cornered him. He slowly backed up, the man practically restricting all of the light. He stood small in his shadow. 

The man let the crowd hype him up, raising his arms to hear their cheers. He beamed in the spotlight, ready for one final grand move. The man stepped back, leaning on his back foot for a more impressive swing. Stan didn't waste a moment, ducking before he could hit him and shot him right through the knee. 

The man fell but Stan knew he wouldn't stay down for long. He looked up, Kyle running towards him. He was fiddling with the button on his wrist, ignoring blood pouring from the bruises on his face and arms. He dispatched a bullet sprinkler nearby. He grabbed it, feeling it softly whirl in his hand. It was getting ready to fire. 

Kyle didn't know how much time he had, the sprinkler was slowly starting to turn faster and faster. A few last jumps, he made it to Stan and the lying man. His face was in the gravel but he was slowly picking himself up. Kyle grabbed his scarf, pulling him up and jamming the nearly ready sprinkler under his face before stomping down on his neck. 

The sprinkler started turning, unleashing a hail of bullets right into the man's face. They barely managed to turn around, somewhat covering themselves from all the blood flying around.

They didn't dare to look at the man, his head unnaturally shaking amidst the hellfire of shots. After a minute it was quiet, the crowd curiously watching. Stan turned the man around, afraid of what he might see but nothing could prepare him for the mess of muscle, bone, and bullets his face became. He barely held it together. Kyle already left, not up to see the shitshow. Stan dry heaved once, twice before turning the man back around.

They just noticed the giant screen above them, seeing themselves on it. There were little animated confetti flying around them. Winners. 

The crows yelled, the whole arena in a frenzy. They started clapping and yelling their names, banging on the walls and seats. The little pod with the host came up again but they didn't even let him have a word. “Where's the control room.”

“Thee might not but not leaveth! Thee might not but collecteth thy prize! Prize! Prize!” the host yelled, waving at the crowd to encourage him and the winners. 

“We don't care about the prize. Where's the room?”

“Prize! Prize! Prize!”

“We're serious!”

“You guys are being real jerks. Just collect the prize, I need sponsors for the next year, they'll want to see you battle again,” the host gave them a little wink while he covered the mic. His cheeky smile was soon turned into pure horror when Stan pulled out his gun and aimed it right at his face. 

“Control room. Now.”

The door shut behind them. They were finally alone in a quiet space. “Things sure do go a lot faster when you've got a gun to point at someone's head” Stan laughed, looking around the room. Right on the back wall, there were to levers. “You ready?” Kyle nodded, grabbing Stan's hand and both pulling the bar.


	14. If They're Gunning For You, You're Winning PT 2 [M]

Kyle blinked his eyes open. This time, he was passed out in a chair. He looked around the room, he was stuck in some kind of an office. The ceiling was high and there were tables in rows front to back, built from nice redwood from top to bottom. 

He collected himself, it was incredibly hard to stand up. His legs were stiff and his head was spinning. Kyle looked down, seeing he's wearing a swanky beige suit. He couldn't see any exit around. Even worse, he couldn't see Stan anywhere around. 

He patted his pockets. Empty. He cursed quietly. Kyle searched the room, it seemed like an old accounting firm. He tried to pry open the desk drawers but they wouldn't budge. He tried to open the windows, he tried to break them to reach the life outside but to no avail. 

He didn't want to go explore the whole building, it was huge. Plus, he was all alone. He tried yelling Stan's name out loud but it just echoed off the wooden walls. Kyle felt stress taking over him. He wasn't this nervous in the arena because Stan was right there next to him. 

What if they got teleported into different games? How will they find each other? 

Actually, how will they even exit this... situation? 

Kyle made his way out of the hall, entering the main entrance. Up led a huge staircase, dividing into two by the floor to wall windows. On the other side was a wooden gate. Kyle felt unsure of what to do. He very much hoped the building is empty. 

If Stan were there, he'd lead the way. Or maybe at least they could get into trouble together. Kyle decided he was better safe than sorry, he went up the stairs. Maybe he'd find a lead there.

He couldn't open most of the doors, probably non-playable areas. Where he could enter, he'd only find a bathroom or a secluded office. No supplies, no weapons, no health. Only a few coins.

His final hope was what he guessed was the manager's office. The cabinets were empty, except for the last one. That one was locked. He searched the huge desk in the middle, finding a little key under all the papers. To his luck, it fit in the cabinet.

Kyle pulled out a little first-aid case. It was just a little metal box. He couldn't open it but thankfully, it fit in his pocket. The other place that caught his attention was the painting on the wall. It seemed... different from all the furniture in the room. He couldn't figure it out, it just seemed so... crisp and high definition. He poked it and it moved, it wasn't fixed on the wall. Kyle took it off, revealing a safe mounted in the wall. 

He paced left and right, wondering what the passcode could be. He searched on the table, looking for anything that could resemble a code. He put all his hope into one combination he found scribbled in the corner of a paper. 

Kyle typed 4739 into the slots, turning each slot to show the right number. Click. The safe opened, revealing the little revolver hidden inside. Kyle groaned, he knew this was a bad sign. Guns are never a good omen.

He checked the magazine, it had 6 bullets. Knowing his aiming abilities, that won't get him far.

Kyle peeked out of the main gate, scanning the world outside. He saw what was possibly the most beautiful city he'd ever seen. He stood there, grounded for a good few minutes while he looked at the old buildings lemming the sidewalks and roads. He looked at the trees and flowers blooming practically everywhere, people peacefully strolling down the streets. They wore suits similar to his, the women wore big hats and dresses and skirts with blazers. Everyone looked so cheerful it was almost suspicious. 

Cheerful music played in the background. He could've sworn there was a band somewhere around.

Kyle took a few steps outside, stopping to see if anything changes. Nothing. No music changes, no nasty stares, no chases. He was only approached by a street vendor who gave him a bag of sweet popcorn. Kyle insisted on paying but the vendor wouldn't hear it. 

He strolled down the street, arriving at a shore. Kyle approached the railing, expecting to see a river or sea but he was greeted with clouds and mountain tops beneath him. His head spun when he realized how high they were. He couldn't even see the bottom, it was all too clouded. Kyle looked left and right but the clouds never ended.

Things were looking a little too good. Of course, they had to be on a flying rock somewhere in the sky.

Kyle continued walking to the center of the town. His knees were still a little shakey from the sight. The perpetual peace of the town was suddenly ruined, Kyle turned around to see what was going on. 

Before he could get out of the way, he was grabbed by a pair of strong hands and pulled, he had to match his speed to the man. Kyle was too shocked to notice he dropped his popcorn. His kidnapper suddenly took a turn, hiding them both in a dark alleyway. 

Kyle stumbled in. The man held him by the wall, one arm holding him against the wall by his torso and the other hand over his mouth. Kyle eyed the corner and saw the cops take a turn and continue running. They passed them without noticing. 

Kyle was ready to lash out on the man. He looked up at him before almost falling again. 

“Stan!”

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Kyle reached behind his belt, pulling out the revolver. “It's a gun.”

“Oh thank G-.”

“What's happening? Why-” Kyle looked at the street from the alleyway again. “Why are you- We running away from the cops?”

Stan huffed, he didn't know himself. “I woke up in some kind of a park and... I walked around and there was a carnival or something and I thought, you know, they never minded when we looted a bit in the past. Turns out people do mind here. Quite a lot,” he held up neatly wrapped sugar hearts. Kyle reached out to take the bag and have a snack but Stan slapped his hand away. “And as soon as they saw me with this they started chasing me. Because of a bag of sugar! The fuck!” Stan quietly yelled. 

“Just because of that?”

“Well, I may have thrown a police officer who came to warn me over the ledge. But that's not the point.”

“You can't just throw people overboard!”

“They're not people, they're pixels! What's up with you, Mr. Moneybags?” he nodded towards his suit. 

“I woke up in a... bank and um... I found this,” he pointed towards the gun, “and then you found me.”   
  
“I can't believe you got a damned suit and I got this,” Stan whined, snapping his suspenders. Kyle rolled his eyes and fixed his friend's collar. He stood there in dress pants and a white shirt, for some reason unbuttoned far too low for this time and world. 

“I mean you look good, no? I like your hair.”

“I look like a... Like a hooligan,” Stan hissed, buttoning his shirt. “Look! I can't even button it! There are no! Buttons!”

“Okay, Mr. Playboy. What are we even doing here?” 

“Fuck if I know.”

“Maybe we should ask around, no? The people seem pretty nice around here.”

“Yeah, until they're chasing you with guns because you took a bag of sweets.”

Kyle pulled his friend out of the alleyway, despite is protests and claims that they couldn't be sure they're not wanted. Kyle corrected him that he is wanted, not them collectively. They decided it'd be best if Kyle did all the talking. 

“I mean there must be some purpose for us,” Stan kicked around the rock that's been in his way for the past ten minutes. They strolled down the street, looking around for work to do. If not work, there had to be some levers to get them out of there. 

Kyle's eye was caught by a newspaper boy handing out today's paper on the corner of the street. He gave him whatever coins he found in the bank. There was a big picture on the front page. Under it was the headline ‘CITY FREED. DUKE SAVED.’

“Look,” he tilted the paper towards Stan. “Looks like we're late.”

“We... Can't be! Why are we here then?” 

Kyle didn't like the idea either. Before he could propose a plan, he was shoved to the side by a running couple. Kyle wanted to give them a piece of his mind, seeing them gather in a large crowd a few feet ahead. They slowly made their way to the podium to see what the ruckus was all about.

The red curtains were not opened yet, a big clock hung above them and the show began it a few minutes. “Hey, excuse me but... What is this all about?” Kyle asked the man standing right next to him. He looked like he was barely standing still, keeping an unnaturally wide smile. His mouth smiled but his eyes didn't. 

“The show is about to start!”

“...Show?”

“Oh, you must be new here! Yes, the weekly show! The public executions! My, my, you're going to love them. Is this your first time?”

Kyle was left frozen in his place. The words ‘public executions’ rang in his ears, even more so when he looked at the crowd, all jolly and impatient, couples and parents with young kids. They all stood around to see the show begin with cotton candy and popcorn and other snacks in hands. 

All the sunlight and happy faces in the world couldn't bring back the nice feelings Kyle had about this place. Stan stood by, unaware of the situation. Kyle gave the man a little absent-minded nod before turning around. He felt his stomach turn into a tiny knot and it sent shivers down his spine. 

Stan asked him what's wrong, he suddenly looked so pale, almost as if he were to faint. When he heard, his head spun too. They're waiting for a public showing of them killing people? They battled in an arena and escaped some cursed woods and those moments didn't even come near. 

They brought out the first offender, a young girl that couldn't be over 25. She was blindfolded and handcuffed and thrown onto an old chair. The crowd cheered, excited to see the first criminal. The policeman read her offenses. Treason, espionage.

Kyle didn't know what to do but it felt wrong to not do anything. They heard a loud beep, a clock appearing above the podium. It started ticking down, one minute, 59 seconds,... Both exchanged confused looks. Did the other people see the timer? 

It hovered above the podium without any support, dangerously ticking away. It felt like a sign. Kyle turned to the person next to him, asking him about it. The man called him a silly boy, continuing to howl in excitement about the show. 

30 seconds left. The policeman was playing with his pistol, walking around the girl and doing a show for the people. He was whistling and dancing, the crowd cheering for him. He put the gun to the girl's head, pulling it away quickly to tease the audience. Kyle was stuck in place, he didn't know what to do. 

But Stan refused to stand by quietly, he grabbed Kyle's revolver from behind his belt and looked up at the cop. 10 seconds left.

The officer was already pointing his gun at the girl's head, Stan not wasting any seconds and shooting two rounds. He then jumped on the stage, grabbed the girl, and ran. The crowd stayed silent in shock, the cops in the backstage taking some time to get back up on their feet and follow the fugitives.

Kyle didn't have much of a choice but to push his way through the crowd and follow the two. They were headed for a carnival behind the main street, hoping to lose the cops in the crowd. 

Kyle shut the door to the caravan behind them, Stan helping the girl out of the blindfold and cuffs. He stayed low, watching the cops run right past them. 

Kyle didn't hear the star of the conversation. “Espionage?”

“Yeah. I've... been working for the king for some time now and... God, how do I say this quickly? We've just gotten out of a war with some city down below and, um,... they have our leader captured in his own residence. Up there,” she pointed out of the tiny window. Both boys looked at the villa crowning the mountaintops high above. 

“But- The news said he's saved, no?”

“Oh, you believe the news. No, um, what happened was that the enemy is holding him captive and turning this whole city into a dictatorship, just like the town below. This was a safe haven before they came. They do it through the radio and public speakers and newspaper, acting as if it's the duke asking them to do all this. And the people are now all fanatic and... Brainwashed. They believe it's okay to go and execute people for the smallest offenses. Especially the ones from lower classes or... Whoever. They have secret meetings and-”

“How does that connect with espionage?”

“Well, I managed to infiltrate the enemy's strategy meetings and found out they're planning on blowing this whole city up. There's a reactor of some sort in the middle of this whole flying city and... I don't know, it's all too technical. It keeps us floating and our shields up. I just know they're planning on blowing it up and crashing this city into the ground.”

“And...”

“I do have my men going to the villa to save the duke. There are hundreds of guards but they can do it. But, seeing you two are so eager to help-”

“Yeah?”

“They're bringing out their weapon by the skyline transport. Up,” she looked out of the window again, pointing up at the lines and trolleys traveling high above the city, “there.”

They still weren't sure what to do.

“My men can free the duke but there's no way they're destroying the weapon. I need you two to get up there and destroy the trolley. That'll give the forces enough time to free the city and strike back.”

“U-Up there?” Stan asked with a shaky voice. The girl nodded. 

“That's the only way we're saving this city. You better hurry up. It's coming in any second now.”

“How do we even get up?”

“I guess your best shot are these... grappling hooks. The police have them, you can grab onto carriages and crates and walls and... Well... Swing your way up. Please, it's the only way.”

Stan didn't want to say yes. But he knew there was no way they were getting out of this place without blowing up a few trolleys. 

“Sure.”

  
Kyle kept playing with the sugar hearts, too tempted to eat one. They seemed to catch the girl's attention. “Where did you two... get these?” she observed the packet, keeping her distance. It was a little strange.

“I took them from like a carnival cart. Why?”

“I mean they're used by... military personnel and circus acts. Oh wow, be careful with them.”

“What?!”

“You'll see. Good luck.”

  
Both tried to stay as invisible as possible. They took the backstreets and shady corners. The cops were now after them and they'd rather go slow than be dead.

“She sure trusts us with saving a whole city.”

“Yeah, she only met us 20 minutes ago. That's enough time to tell some random dudes your military secrets, no?”

“Gimme the bag,” Kyle snatched the little sachel from Stan's grip, unwrapping the bow from the top. He didn't know how long they've been gone in real life. He didn't know how long they haven't eaten, drank, or rested. But they didn't even feel the need to. 

Kyle dug around the packet of sugar hearts, pulling out a little red heart. “You're flaming,” he read. He turned the heart around. “Hot stuff.”

“Sheesh, that's lame,” Stan rolled his eyes. He grabbed the candy from Kyle's hands and put it in his mouth. “Oh wow, that tastes like shi- Oh, God,” he started coughing. 

“Stan? You okay?”

“Shit, oh, oh that's hot,” Stan panted, trying to cool down his mouth. It was the most disgusting candy he has ever tasted. “Fuck. Fuck me, that's hot.” Stan bent down, trying to concentrate on breathing. It felt like hellfires were unleashed on his tongue and continued on down his throat. He guessed something was wrong. Did the military use this as weapons? Bullets?

“Dude, dude, are you okay?” Kyle lowered to his kneeling friend who was in the middle of a coughing fit. He thought he was going to die for a while. Stan sat on the dirty ground. He looked as if he'd just battled with death.

“I-... No,” he panted. The heat from his hands traveled down from his mouth to his hands. He lifted them up when it felt like flames were ready to burst from under his skin. A scream got stuck in his throat when he saw his hands bloody red, flames climbing up from under his shirt and engulfing his hands. He yelled, screamed for help as the flames climbed over his fingers, burning like nothing ever has. He looked as his skin slowly burned, turning pink and then bloody red and black. His hands were charred, he tried to put them out but nothing worked. “Shi- Kyle, oh God, Kyle- stop it! Make it stop! Fuck!” he yelled but to no avail.

Kyle stood by the side, covering his mouth to not draw any more attention to them. 

Stan was slowly backing away from his hands until his back hit the wall. He looked up at Kyle through his flaming fingers. He didn't scream anymore, just quietly whimpered. Kyle was worried this is the end, he's going to burn to death. And then, just as quickly as it started, the fire put itself out. He was left with his skin ripped, charred, and torn open. He could see his muscles move when he moved his fingers. 

His mind stopped for a while, he didn't quite get what's happening. His hands were stuck up in the air. Kyle came closer, asking Stan if he's okay but it got lost somewhere in the background. He just stared at his skin. And then his hands started healing, first replacing the missing skin and then fixing the charred areas. He watched his hands as they repaired themselves. 

“Are you okay?” Kyle shook him by the shoulders, speaking loudly into his face.

“My entire arms just fucking burned and came back, give me a second, okay?” he hissed, touching the skin on his palms. It was healed without any scars or marks. “What th- Dude, it just came back like that!” he said to Kyle snapping his fingers. Kyle let out a little yell, telling him to do it again.

Stan didn't understand but snapped his fingers, seeing a little spark fly, and then small flames hover above his fingers for a few seconds. He thought he was seeing things. Stan did it again and again, with one hand and then the other. He clapped his hands together, pulling them away slowly. He couldn't believe there was a little fireball between his palms. 

Out of nowhere, next to Stan appeared a little flier. Kyle cautiously grabbed it. He was worried it might be some trick from the police but it had a strange glow. He read it out loud to Stan, finding out the hearts are actually called Damian's Agony Crushes. He read to him how they worked, first effects, and possible uses.

They were also apparently very illegal.

“Oh lord,” Kyle whispered, looking at the bag of sweets.

“Eat one too.”

“What?! No!”

“Do it!”

“I'm not going through the same... process as you!”

“Jesus, do it! We're supposed to eat them!”

“How do you know?”

“Because we're in some fucked up video game!” Stan yelled, snatching the bag away from Kyle and picking out a heart for him. “This one.”

Kyle took it but he didn't want to. He spun the sweet between his fingers. “Bee mine.”

“Be mine. That's not too bad.”

“No, it's like a bee. Like the insect. Buzz buzz and stuff,”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. And,” he spun the candy around, worried. “Honey.” He popped it into his mouth, his expression curling into a frown from the taste. “It-... Blech, it's so sweet,” he gagged, hoping the taste will subside soon. Instead, his eyes started to tear. His vision got blurry, he could barely see. 

Kyle tried to wipe away his tears, his fingers getting covered in something sticky instead. He didn't see a thing, the world blurred by a thick substance that was leaking out of his tear ducts instead of tears. “What... What is happening,” he whispered, rubbing the substance between his fingers. 

“Is-... Is that honey?” Stan whispered and Kyle felt him lightly touch his face. His throat started to itch. It felt as if something was crawling up. Stan gasped, seeing the lump travel up Kyle's throat. Kyle couldn't ask what was going on. He could only open his mouth, sticking out his tongue. 

Stan watched in horror as Kyle helped the lump up, reaching two fingers into his throat and pulling out something into his palm. Stan didn't know what, he had to close his eyes. 

Kyle wiped his eyes into his jacket, finally seeing. He opened his hand, inside a bee that was as big as his whole palm. He stared at it, not nearly as surprised as he should be. The insect crawled around his hand, waiting for orders. 

“What is that,” Stan came closer, looking at the animal with wide eyes. “Why does it have... It has claws?” He backed up again. It could probably cut off a finger with three snips. “Put your killer bee away.”

“But how do I summon them?”

“I'd rather you wouldn't.”

“How do-” Kyle couldn't finish his complaint, disrupted by some yells. 

“There they are! After them!” the policemen yelled, pointing at the two fugitives. They didn't waste a second, turning around and running further into the alleyway. They looked back, there seemed to be at least ten men behind them. 

They were thankful for the game mechanics, bullets flying right past them. 

Kyle whipped his hands together again, rolling them away to somehow enlarge the fireball. His hands burned again, they were flaming. But the fireball was getting bigger and bigger. He stopped, aiming at the men. 

The fireball flew through the air, taking out the first few lines of men. He tried to block out their screams as their uniforms caught on fire, as they slowly burned up. He tried to block out the smell of burning skin. It turned out to be harder than he thought. He didn't want to look at them as they spilled down in heaps of ash.

The men wasted no time pulling out their pistols again, aiming, and shooting. “Do something!” Kyle yelled, taking a sharp turn. He was slowly running out of breath. They weren't as incompetent this time, aiming fairly well and even hitting them.

But Stan couldn't. His hands were charred to coal. He barely ran with how much they hurt. He couldn't do much until they healed.

They soon realized they had to come up with something when they ran into a dead end. The wall was too high for them to jump over. The cops were catching up to them, bullets flying right past them. “What now?” Kyle desperately yelled, looking around for an escape route. 

Stan looked at his shirt, as something under it moved under it. “Unbutton your shirt,” he ordered him. Kyle didn't understand what he meant, Stan taking the matter into his own hands and ripping it open. 

Kyle almost fainted at the sight of a wide crack going down his chest. The two halves of his torso were held together by what seemed was hollowed out tree bark, bees crawling in and out of the holes. He wanted to rip it out, make it go away but his hands were paralyzed in fear. He couldn't move. Just now could he feel them crawling inside. He looked at Stan with fear in his eyes, asking for help. 

Stan didn't have much time to act, the cops running out from behind the corner. He grabbed a stick from the pile of broken wood beside them. “I'm sorry,” he told to Kyle, whacking the stick against his torso.

Kyle let out an inhuman groan, the crack in his chest opening and falling apart. Stan watched as hundreds of bees flew out, the swarm was so dense it looked like a black cloud. It rose up and flew towards the men. They tried to shoot at it but with no results. Then came the screams and yells for help and the bees dug into them, stinging and snipping, biting. 

Stan barely caught Kyle who collapsed, his eyes half-closed and mouth agape. He looked at the crack in his chest, it was at least four inches wide. He saw a whole hive inside his chest, bees buzzing and flying around to fix the hole in his chest. He saw the honeycombs that made up his insides.

Stan tried to call his name, shake him, call his name again, he spoke to him and patted his cheeks.

Kyle still wasn't moving and Stan was now worried. He fished out the first-aid kit from his pocket, pulling out a huge syringe. Its content was bright yellow, he hoped this would help. Or at least he considered it revenge. Stan took a deep breath, ramming the syringe below Kyle's collarbone.

A bee bigger than the others climbed out of the hole in his chest that was now getting smaller and smaller, walking up to his mouth. It was covered in honey, leaving greasy marks on his chest and neck. It climbed into his open mouth, down his throat. Stan couldn't look at the lump in his throat going down. Kyle finally took a breath, tasting the honey o his tongue and coming alive. He looked around in confusion, not quite remembering what has happened. Stan explained, Kyle observing the honeycomb in the middle of his chest. 

Stan didn't want to look but next to the piles of bodies were grappling hooks, shining to grab their attention. Kyle was now strong enough to lift himself up, looking at Stan as he brought back two leather gloves. “What's that.”

“I think it might be... The hook? I'm not totally sure.” He put the glove on, pointing it at the sky. It strapped around his arm, he studied the buttons on the side. Possibly the one that says G, he pressed that one and a long rope with a hook at the end shot out, flying through the air and latching itself up on the top of the wall. He heard a silent click, the rope stopping in place and quickly retracting, pulling him towards the wall and up without any problems. 

Kyle watched the whole scene from below, terror in his eyes. Do... They trust these devices? How... Why... He had no choice but to put on a glove of his own, looking at the buttons. “Come on! We have to hurry!” Stan yelled at him from the top. “Press G!”

Kyle had to take a moment on the top of the wall. First, the bees. Now, this. “Where do we go from here?” 

“Up.”

Up meant hundreds of feet up to latch onto the main skyline transport line. They were pretty successful in dodging cops and other enemies, silently running up the rooftops and terraces of the city houses. In case they did run into enemies, Kyle found the S button on the glove. He didn't expect the hook to start spinning insanely fast, cutting deep into the guard's head. He only found out when he was trying to protect himself in panic when he saw a cop running at him with a gun in his hand. The blood splattered all over the roof was a nasty surprise, so was finding out how difficult it is to lodge your hook out of someone's skull. 

They stood on the edge of a roof, close to the villa. The skyline was high above them, a trolley coming in from distance. They weren't sure if this was the right one. It's the only one approaching the villa for some time. “Where... do we go now?” Stan looked around, not seeing any roof higher than the one they were standing on. 

“I-... Whew. Those crates,” Kyle pointed at a few dangling off the railway. They were at least 80 feet away.

Stan didn't like the idea. He looked down, they were thousands of feet high above... well, nothing. There was nothing under them, no safe point. “Are you... insane?”

Kyle took a breath, preparing to shoot the grappling hook. He wasn't sure whether the rope was long enough or strong enough but Stan's screams about how he's crazy and how he's not doing that were very distracting. He never thought he'd be the courageous one to jump first.

For a moment, he forgot he could die.

He pressed the button, the hook digging into the wooden crate. The rope pulled him forward, he soon lost the ground beneath his feet. Before he could scream or regret his decision, he was dangling from a wooden crate, free in the air. The wooden crate dangerously tilted to a side, dropping him lower. Stan's heart stopped in his chest, watching his friend drop lower and lower. The wood from the crate was being ripped out by the hook. 

Kyle didn't have much of a choice, climbing his way up to the crate before he fell. The rope retracted slowly, he didn't even breathe. He was almost at the top when the crate started rocking back and forth. The wind was picking up and he looked back at Stan who stood on the nearby roof. He looked worried from afar but you could really see the horror in his eyes from up close. 

Kyle knew he was staring death right onto the face.

Stan clutched his glove, ready to swing for Kyle. The crate was falling apart splinter by splinter. The railway started moving, the new cargo was coming in. 

Kyle realized this was a mistake but there was nowhere else to hook. He looked down at his dangling legs, already seeing himself falling down and splashing into pieces. His head started buzzing to the point of his vision getting blurry. At least he won’t be fully conscious when he falls.

Stan knew he didn’t have much time. He could hook into the railway and grab Kyle and... He didn’t know where to go from there. But he had to save his friend because lord knows how death works here.

Stan positioned his hook, shooting it out and immediately getting dragged off of the roof. He was flying through the air, closer to Kyle. He yelled at him to give him his hand, there was only one chance to grab him. The line would then drag him further. 

Kyle was waiting with his hand stuck out, Stan firmly grasping him and his hook pulled them away. Kyle didn't budge, his hook and glove not letting go from the crate. But the skyline was moving, pulling Stan away. Kyle thought he'd get torn apart. One hand was stuck in the glove, the other was pulling him away. 

“Do something!” Stan yelled, feeling his own hook might not hold them. It dangerously creaked as he moved between the cargo ships. Kyle's hand was slipping out of his. He tried to move further down and grab him by the wrist but that didn't work either. 

Kyle felt terrible tension is his shoulders. If he wanted to keep both arms, he had to act now. He jerked his gloved arm as hard as he could, breaking free from the leather clips and grips. It hurt like hell, leaving scratches and little wounds from his forearm down to his wrist. He let out a river of curses, Stan finally managing to pull them both away. 

He didn't even know how he was holding Kyle up. “Eat some candy!” he yelled at his friend who was dangling above the city. He knew neither bees nor fire would be of any use right now. 

Kyle yelled back, asking what he means. He searched for the packet, pulling it from his pocket but the wind rocked them some more, Kyle pulling out his revolver in the process too. He could only look as it fell down. Great, now they're without a weapon. 

He held the packet tightly, he didn't want it to fall down too. The skyline was speeding up. The wind was becoming a problem and Stan was starting to get worried they might crash into another delivery crate. Their best chance was jumping on one, waiting for the trolley to arrive.

And that's what they did. Stan helped Kyle climb up, both kneeling on opposite sides of the cargo so it wouldn't tilt to one side. Kyle spilled the sugar hearts on the crate, trying to find one that'll get them out of the situation. Stan was growing impatient, forgetting the crate tilts easily and moving towards Kyle to help him. 

The hearts rolled down from the crate, Kyle only managing to catch the last one. He glared at Stan, reminding him his revolver's now down in hell too. 

The trolley was coming closer. Stan tried to make out if there were any people on, getting his answer in a form of them unleashing fire. They probably noticed them sitting on the crate and were a possible threat to the operation. 

He barely managed to duck, Kyle twisting the heart between his fingers. “Do something!” Stan yelled, trying to counter-attack by spitting whatever fire he could at them. He still didn't know how to properly work the power yet, fireballs and pulses of fire flying everywhere. He could see some attackers burning, some falling out of the trolley. But it was still moving. His fire wasn't too useful against the thick metal.

Kyle read the heart. ‘You make’ on one side and ‘me melt’ on the other. He didn't know what the consequences will be but he knew they'd be horrible. The sugar heart was almost a glowing yellow color. He put it in his mouth, almost spitting it out instantly. It was so incredibly sour, his tongue felt like it was melting. He had to wipe the corners of his mouth constantly so he wouldn't drool. It was so disgusting.

His mouth was basically disintegrating, the stinging traveling down his throat and into his hands. He turned them around and back, waiting to see the horror. At first, nothing happened but his skin started to get irritated and red. He looked at Stan, he had to take a break and hide behind the hook holding the cargo up, his hands were too burnt to do anything more. 

He just stared at Kyle with fear in his eyes, watching his hands burn from within. His skin turned to goop in some places, Kyle trying to stop himself from screaming. It burned and stung, his skin and muscles liquifying under the acidic splotches on his hands. He knew it'd pass but his natural reaction was to try to wipe it all off. He couldn't, more splotches appearing on his hands. He saw them drip onto the wooden crate, burning holes into the wood.

His eyes watered because he refused to scream, his skin turning back to normal after a while. It was all okay now. His fingers were still dripping with acid, yellow and burning, seeping into the crate and burning through it. 

Kyle managed to stand up, he knew he was their last chance. Their crate was still slowly moving forward, the trolley coming towards them on the opposite skyline. Kyle didn't know how to control his skill at all, only seeing his hands are dripping with the liquid. He took off his jacket, soaking it in acid. 

The wind was so unpleasant on his skin, cursing Stan for ripping his shirt open. He pressed the acid into every part of his suit jacket, throwing it over the opposite skyline. He was a little surprised it didn't burn immediately, instead, it landed on the railway and was slowly eating its way through it. 

Stan watched the whole operation, asking Kyle what the hell was that. 

“Improvise, adapt, overcome.” 

They both watched the railway melt, leaving a huge gaping hole in the middle. The trolley didn't seem to notice, continuing on their way. The shooting stopped. 

They just sat on the crate, watching the trolley pass them by, the hooks on which it was traveling only finding a blank space and falling off the railway, plunging down into the nothingness that was under them. 

Another job well done.

Kyle looked into the distance, seeing two levers come down the railway. Of course, they were on the opposite side from them, only carried by a hook. They seemed to be pretty far, the only place for them to grab onto the lever. At least it had a little step in front of them where they could land. 

Kyle stood on the edge, ready to jump. Stan didn't seem to be too keen on the idea. He asked Kyle if he's crazy, that he's not making the jump. Not after their last jump experience. Stress built up in his stomach, realizing he has to jump or he's stuck here. The lever will fall down into the clouds and both boys along with it. 

Kyle realized he had nothing to lose. He was already standing over a pit of nightmares in a video game world, acid dripping from his hands and his shirt torn apart, hands bruised and bloody. The levers were coming closer, Stan still adamant about the jump. 

Kyle took a few steps back, jumping off of the edge and barely making it. He grabbed the lever, one of his legs slipping. Stan's heart stopped for a moment, already seeing him fall in his imagination. He turned at him, yelling at Stan to stop being a pussy and jump. 

He waited until the last moment to gather up the courage, barely brushing against the step and scrambling to grab the lever. In the end, he did grab it, holding Kyle's hand and pulling it. The hook with the levers ran onto the hole in the railway, falling down before everything went black again.

Stan felt like he has just woken up from a nap. He cautiously looked around but soon realized he was in a pitch-black room. His eyes slowly accustomed to the dark. Stan noticed a counter, maybe they were in a shop. He looked at the turned over tables and broken chairs, he looked at the newspaper, plates and other debris that was thrown on the floor. The place was a mess and smelled of rotten food. 

Kyle was thankfully passed out on the counter next to him. He was bent over it, Stan had to cautiously wake him up and help him stand up. His back was sore like never before, probably from being passed out for who knows how long, bent over like a rainbow. 

The first box was checked, they found each other.

The second item on the list, find out what's going on. 

They stayed low, walking around the room. There was no one around, it seemed. It was awfully quiet, almost too quiet. What could've caused such a mess? Stan looked out of a nearby window. The streets were just as ravished, fires burning outside. Not a soul in sight. 

He felt fear build up in his stomach. Something was very wrong but he couldn't put his finger on it. His stomach tied itself in an even tighter knot when he heard rumbling from the back. He didn't have a weapon on him.

It was just Kyle, digging through the drawers and cabinets. Some cutlery fell on the ground. It seems like they're in a café of some sort. His mouth was suddenly so dry but he knew there was no water around. He cursed, searching the rest of the tables.

He hoped he wouldn't stumble across a body, he prayed, but the woman lying behind a table didn't surprise him. He didn't know if he should turn her around. With shaking hands, he reached out for her sunken shoulder, bent strangely. 

He was brought out of the moment by Kyle cursing, trying to kick the door open. It was locked. He said there's a backdoor too but it's barricaded and he couldn't see anything behind it. 

Stan wasn't sure if he wanted to go outside. He knew they've been through at least 3 games. But just now was the dread and fear starting to settle in. He had a bad feeling he knew what was going on.

He asked Kyle to stay close. Kyle grabbed a frying pan from the counter and followed suit. It was heavy and awkward to hold but better than having no weapons. Stan gathered up the courage to flip the woman over, greeted with her rotting face. He never knew how many maggots could fester on a human body. They were crawling all over her, nibbling on small pieces of her flesh. They ravaged her face and Stan couldn't make out one feature. It was all a mushy mess of rot, flesh, and maggots. But in her neck was a larger wound, it seemed like something had bitten off flesh from there. Something bigger.

He couldn't quite figure out the teeth marks, so focused on her rotting wound, he didn't even notice her reaching out for him. He only realized once her cold, wet fingers grabbed his shirt. He let out a surprised yell, his voice cracking when he looked into the woman's oozing eyes. 

Kyle didn't waste a minute, swinging his pan at her before she could pull Stan any closer. He smashed it at her head, Stan quickly crawling back and shielding himself from whatever will be left of her head.

Kyle bashed her head a few more times, waiting for her to stop squirming. He looked back at Stan, worry lighting up in his eyes. He sat under the counter, curled up in a ball and staring at the headless body. He couldn't catch his breath. Kyle asked him if he's okay, stroking his shoulder. He couldn't answer. His throat was so tight, he couldn't get a sound out. 

Stan didn't know what their goal was. He knew there must be levers somewhere around here. Does this fucked up dream just get harder and harder as they move further?

He helped Stan stand up. He was a shaking mess, his worst fears coming true. 

What now?

“We should check the storage.” Kyle couldn't even explain the horror in Stan's eyes.

“I... I can't,” he whispered, stepping away from the door. He didn't feel safe with a gun, what's he going to do without one?

Kyle took it upon himself to clear out enemies. He quietly opened the door, listening if he hears any noise. It was quiet but dark. He didn't have a flashlight to help him. 

Kyle was in charge of the shotgun he found in the storage room, keeping the bullets in his pocket. He gave Stan a knife, something to keep him somewhat safe. He also found a key. He made his way outside, staring at a wasteland.

The whole city was empty. Not a single person outside. He looked at the fires and flipped cars, blood pooling on the street. Belongings were thrown around. He saw scratch marks on the ground. Windows were broken, police tapes ripped. War? Riots?

Kyle could only hear the wind blow, dragging around scraps and paper. He cocked his shotgun, Stan following closely behind. Kyle grabbed his hand to calm him down, he felt how much he was shaking. He was a mess. He didn't hold Kyle's hand back. 

Stan couldn't properly bring his head up and look at the deserted city. He couldn't shake off the feeling of that woman's hand on him. Stan gripped the knife with all his might.

He felt a wind of disgusting rancid smell coming to him, the wind picking. Before he could do anything about it, he was thrown on the ground. Stan only saw the night sky above him, his hands pinned above his head, something sharp digging into his wrists. He felt it puncture his skin, scraping against his bones. He was dragged away, his back shielded from the pavement only by a thick flannel shirt. 

He yelled for help, seeing Kyle run after him, pointing his shotgun at something. He was too slow to catch up with him. The thing holding him let out a shriek, leaving behind a wet trail of liquified decayed skin and organs.

His wrists were gripped by long, cold fingers. The thing let go of him, he turned around to look at it. He only saw a pale back, unnaturally curved. He saw the outline of every single vertebra, curving, and twisting. The meat was falling off of it. It grabbed a nearby trashcan, holding it up high before chucking it at Kyle.

He didn't dodge it. Kyle fell on the ground, his shotgun flying out of his hands. There was a huge cut on his head, bleeding. 

Stan wanted to help. He so desperately needed to stand up and do something, but fear paralyzed him. His muscles were frozen solid. He felt himself scream, but he didn't let out a word. He felt himself get up and run, help Kyle and run, run. But instead, he kept sitting on the ground, watching in horror as the thing turned around, revealing its face. 

He stared into the blackened eyes, a torn face that showed decaying muscle and brittle bones. The skin was dry and grey. He saw the blood pooling under it, right where the veins raptured. He stared at the teeth that were ready to dig into him. He looked at the sparse hair flowing out of its head. He heard the inhumane yell it let out, carrying it through the streets. It echoed off of buildings, it felt like someone kicked him right into his head.

He felt his body weaken, his mind shutting down. This was too much. Before he could pass out, the thing got thrown away. A bullet pierced right through its chest, black sludge coming out. It spilled and spilled, a few more shots coming, hearing the cock of a shotgun after each one.

Stan felt someone wrap hands around his torso, lifting him. The thing was dead, lying in a pool of black. He gripped onto the nearest wall, breathing some air into his lungs. It stung. Kyle tried to calm him down, hearing his heavy breaths and sobs. 

He looked at his friend with red eyes, asking how much more. He didn't know. And Stan didn't know how much he could handle. He wiped his face, trying to quiet down his cries. He was exhausted. He wanted to go home. Just go home. He could handle wolves and Agony Candy but this... This was too much. It felt too real, somehow. 

Or maybe he just had enough.

Kyle rubbed his back, feeling the same. But he knew this was the time when he had to be the strong one. He had to be Stan's rock.

He took him under his arm, walking through the city. Stan calmed down a little, wiping his tears into his shirt. 

The city was quiet for a while. They couldn't enter any buildings, all of them were locked. The road only led them further into the devastated city. The deafening silence was interrupted by groans coming from behind them. They froze in their steps, turning around. They locked eyes with an undead man and a hundred more behind him. They smelled them, saw them. 

They were hungry.

The boys didn't know how much longer they could run. The horde was after them when a flaming bottle came crashing down. It exploded, fire swallowing a good amount of the undead. They hissed and curled up, twisting on the ground while the fire burned every muscle. They looked up to see where it's coming from, seeing a man navigating them inside a building.

The door was now properly barricaded, the man checking twice. The boys were in, scared and grateful. It must've been an abandoned flat. They got to talking with the people inside the house, meeting the only survivors in town. 

They talked with them but Kyle felt like he was skipping the dialogue. He didn't catch a single word they were saying. Only remembering something about a virus spreading through the city, taking down even the military that came to quarantine them. He knew how zombie games worked. He didn't need to hear this for the tenth time with very little detail changed. 

But he learned that the monster they encountered was called an Angel. And that there were more like it. Like Hell's Circle. That was a rare one, when tens of undead get stuck together, fused by their rotting bodies. They move around like a big mass, eating a shredding whoever comes in their way.

Or the Docs. Those were the undead ones that still kept a working mind. They had the strength and drive of a zombie but the mind of a living person. 

Kyle wanted to get out, more so for Stan than for himself. He saw him sitting on a dusty couch, shivering, holding his face. He won't last much longer.

They pointed them at the crate of beer, Kyle opening one. It was disgusting. Warm and sour. But the wound on his head slowly closed up. At this point, he wasn't even surprised. He gave some to Stan, God knows he needed it. 

The people stayed silent, listening. The man, he looked like the head of the pack, thought he heard something. He looked into the hall, to see if someone's there. There was. He didn't have a weapon.

They had a full view of him getting grabbed, bitten, and ripped. They heard his yells, the zombie's groans, and screams. Blood splashed everywhere. The remaining three survivors knew there was nothing more they could do to help. They all stared in horror as pieces of his flesh fell, seeing muscle and bone hit the carpet. The undead man gnawed at his neck and stomach, taking in mouthfuls. It took them a while to become deaf to his screams and gurgles, the undead biting into his throat some more. The man ripped out the front part of his throat.

There wasn't anything left to do but run.

Stan couldn't match the speed of the rest of the survivors, they were racing across the city, dodging the undead left and right. Sometimes they'd get grabbed but the others helped. Kyle was right by Stan's side, reloading his shotgun. The horde was catching up to them. They weren't sure how you could run so fast with your muscles that decayed. 

Stan looked for an escape route, trying to catch anything that could save them in the alleyways. They passed blocked streets, fires, metal fences. He could hear the yells and screams of the undead that couldn't get to them. They reached their hands through holes in fences, trying to climb over it, under it, piling on top of each other. He heard their primal hunger and drive, already seeing himself getting ripped limb to limb. 

Kyle was slowly running out of breath. The survivors were getting out of sight, they didn't look back to see if the two new members were still with them. But they could almost see the gate to the city. 

The military put it up to stop the contagion. Maybe it helped, they didn't know. They didn't know whether the world outside was destroyed, just like this town. They just knew that no one here except the four survivors made it. This was the epicenter of the outbreak.

They looked at them as they almost climbed over the sky-high hate but they didn't have time to catch up. Their eyes shot to the metal gate bursting open, hundreds of undead spilling out and running, chasing the survivors. They didn't notice the two men behind them. They champed at them, reaching their hands out, spitting and screaming. They wanted to taste their fresh flesh, they needed to reach for them, piling up on each other. They didn't seem to mind the others in the way, falling over each other and running as fast as they could to reach the still living. 

This was their chance. Kyle saw a marker on the ground, a white arrow glistening from bottom to top, pointing at the alleyway. He was terrified out of his mind, willing to take any guidance. He grabbed Stan's flannel shirt, racing with the last bits of his strength to the gate. His lungs were burning, every breath hurt.

He felt his chest closing up, almost seeing black from exhaustion. He heard Stan wheeze, trying to catch his breath. Kyle took the corner, dodging whatever hands reached out for him. He saw a pickup truck at the end of the street.

Kyle took the courtesy of jumping into the trunk, holding onto the turret that was mounted into it. He yelled at Stan to drive. The car was thankfully unlocked, Stan jumping into the driver's seat. The key was conveniently in the ignition. He looked at the levers and buttons. “I don't know how to drive!” he yelled at Kyle, looked into the rearview mirror, seeing Kyle investigating the turret.

But he also saw the horde running closer, getting bigger and bigger in the side mirrors. Kyle turned at him, urgently yelling. “Just- Just drive! They're getting closer!” He tried to get the turret to work, turning it every which way and pushing every button he saw. 

In a moment of silence, they heard the screams of the survivors. They were still alive, yelling for help. Stan tried turning the key, the car huffing, but it died on him. He tried a few times, the car dying every time. Kyle was yelling at him, urging him, begging the car to start. The horde was almost there. 

Stan didn't know what else to do. A few cries escaped his lips, he whispered, come on, come on, desperate for the car to start. His sweaty hands were making it harder for him to turn the key, his pleads turning into curses. Kyle was pulling at whatever lever he could, trying to turn the safety off. It was dark and he could only go by touch.

He could now hear the grunts of the undead so clearly, it was like they're right beside him. He didn't know where else to push or pull. They couldn't run now, there was no way they'd outrun them. He was slowly losing hope, his fingers searching any crevice or button he hasn't touched yet.

He could see them salivating, their eyes glowing with hunger. That's when he found it, on the right side, a little lever. He pulled it down, hearing a click from the turret. He's ready to fire.

Stan kept trying to start up the car, finally hearing the engine start, the engine's whirl was the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. He pushed the gearstick into whatever pattern, his hand somehow knowing its way. He stepped on the pedal, the car shooting forward.

Kyle grabbed the turret with both hands, aiming it at the first man that was almost climbing into the car. He pulled the trigger, the machine almost slipped out of his hands. It unleashed a rain of bullets at the undead, watching them fall. They crawled over each other, hoping to reach the car.

The car sped through the streets, taking a turn to the gate. Kyle was aiming with his turret, trying to hit as many as possible. He looked up, seeing the survivors sitting on a cement wall, high enough to keep the zombies from reaching them. They looked at the car, begging them to stop so they could jump in. But they couldn't. They couldn't stop for a second.

The group of survivors couldn't get past the barbed gate, yelling at the car to get to a control cabin in the woods and open it. That's the last thing they heard before driving off out of the town.

Kyle turned around, seeing if he can climb into the passenger's seat. Sitting in the trunk while Stan was driving at killer speed didn't feel too safe. He held onto the tailgate. 

Stan was getting a hold of the driving, turning the tuner to finding a radio station. Most of them were silent, only letting out an uncomfortable buzz. He kept turning until he heard a familiar melody, humming to the tune of a synthesizer. He tapped his fingers on the wheel.

The songs kept going from one classic to another. The '80s tunes were the only good thing about this whole experience. But they almost muted out Kyle's yelling from the back, telling him to speed up. He didn't hear it until a bullet pierced the back window, flying right past him. 

Kyle yelled louder, telling him to go faster. And faster. The turret was overheating and he didn't know how much longer he could hold it or how many bullets he had. His fingers were already burned from the searing metal.

Stan looked into the rearview mirror, seeing headlights, closer and closer. They rode into the other lane, trying to push their truck off of the road. The people inside were shooting at them, Stan trying to catch a glimpse of them. His throat ran dry, seeing their decaying faces and greenish skin. 

The driver was hanging out of his seat, the car's door missing. He was swinging a shotgun from side to side, trying to aim with whatever was left of his arm. Stan yelled at Kyle to aim, but he couldn't turn the turret around. 

The driver shot at them, the bullet stopped by the door. Stan steered the wheel, hoping to cause some damage to the car nearby. He hit it but the driver threw his shotgun up, aiming it right at him through the passenger's window. 

Stan barely ducked, the bullet scraping his shoulders. He felt the stinging through his back, knowing there's a nasty gash across his back. He pressed the pedal on the floor, picking up speed. He didn't stop until the fear of speed became worse than the fear of what's following them. 

He heard the undead shoot at them again, Kyle operating the turret. He aimed at the hood of the car, shooting, his fingers burning, and ears ringing. He shot, ignoring all physical pain. He didn't stop until the hood was steaming, just a few more bullets, seeing fires burst out.

He felt the heat on his face, the car tracing off the road. They only heard a loud bang, flames erupting somewhere in the distance. Kyle finally took a deep breath. He didn't have the time to regain his energy, thrown to the side, and almost off of the car. He turned around to ask Stan what the hell that was about, noticing they're entering a forest. 

The road turned from asphalt to gravel, road lights disappearing. They were on their own now. The forest was dense and dark, not giving them an idea of where to go. Stan just followed the hollowed-out tracks, driving deeper and deeper. 

The car let out a few huffs, stopping. Stan hit the steering wheel in panic, pushing whatever buttons he could find. No, not now. It couldn't die now. Not now. He banged at the headboard, a light was blinking. They were out of gas.

He let out a frustrated yell, jumping out of the car. Kyle searched the headboard container, finding a shitty little flashlight. He discovered Stan sitting in the grass, holding his head in his palms. He didn't know if he could continue. He gave Kyle a devastating look. How much longer?

Kyle told him it's only a little further. And he was right. They soon approached a cabin, cautiously peeking inside. It was empty, except for military arsenal and a headboard with two buttons. They closed the door behind them but it locked from the outside. Was this a safe house or a trap?

Stan turned on the light, stepping closer. There were two notes.

Press the left button, annihilate the city. There is no chance of the few people left surviving. But there's a very slim chance of the virus spreading. There's no way of knowing further consequences.

Press the right button, open the gates. The few people may survive. But the virus spreads. There's no way of knowing further consequences.

Kyle stood above the buttons, his throat dry. Why was this decision up to them now? His hand hovered somewhere in the middle. He didn't know. He asked Stan what he thought.

Kyle caught Stan's hand just in time before he hit the left button. “You can't,” he whispered. They're people. They helped us escape. Would they be dead without them? They didn't know.

But Stan had enough of this. He lashed out at Kyle, they aren't people. They're a bunch of fucking pixels, just like everyone and everything around. The game was getting to him. They just need to press one button, it doesn't matter which. Shit like this does not matter in a game. They're here for the levers. What happens next is not their responsibility. 

Stan didn't stop to think whether they're also anything more than pixels now.

And so he pressed the left button. They could hear bombs in the distance, removing the city from the face of the earth. Just as Stan expected, two levers appeared behind them. Let's go. 

Hopefully home.


	15. If They're Gunning For You, You're Winning PT 3 [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh it's the end already! this turned out to be a little longer than expected but i hope yall enjoyed! it was super fun to wtire

"Kyle opened his eyes, greeted by a night sky. It was like Russian roulette at this point. What unimaginable horror will greet them today? 

He collected himself from the wet grass. Stan was passed out next to him, waking up quickly with Kyle shaking him. He looked disoriented for the first few seconds, instantly getting disgusted by the mud he was laying in. 

He stood up, brushing it off his jacket, but wherever he touched it, it was dry. But they're laying in the middle of a field, in muddy, wet grass. Yet they're spotless and dry.

It was weird but by far not the strangest thing they've encountered. Just to be sure, Stan patted down Kyle's jacket too. Dry. But the rain didn't stop. 

Where are they now? At least they're together. They looked around the dark field, only to be blinded by the reflectors standing behind in the distance. They quickly huddled closer, ready for danger, but the whole world stayed quiet. "What... Do we do?"

"Do we go closer?"

"I don't know, man. Hey. Hey, check your pockets," Stan whispered, digging hands into his own. He managed to pull out a scroll, a wallet, a wrench, and a rag. "Holy shit," he whispered, looking at the sheer amount of stuff he pulled out. He kept putting his hands in, figuring out how deep they actually are, but they just felt like standard jacket pockets.

"Dude, put your hand in my pocket."

"I'm not falling for that."

Stan sighed, jamming his hands into Kyle's coat. He pulled out a flashlight that, big surprise, was missing batteries, a box of matches, and a small golden totem. "Wow, how did all of that fit inside?"

"No idea." They stood there in the field for a good few minutes, patting around and inside their pockets to see if they lead into another dimension. Kyle also managed to find an ID and a letter. 

At first, they tried to figure out who they were, based on clothing. Stan wore a long coat, and there seemed to be a snappy hat thrown around somewhere near. They guessed he was a detective of some sort. Kyle was stuck with an ugly suede jacket and jeans. Maybe he was a cop? Or just some random guy walking by?

"Hey, what does your ID say?" 

"Oh God, I... I can't see shit." Stan squinted, trying to decipher the words on his identification card. It was too dark to make out anything, "A-... Adam... H... Dude, I can't read this."

"What?"

"It's Hr- something, but the r has a little... a little whoosh at the top."

"It has a what?"

"Like... A little whoosh. Like," Stan drew a checkmark shape in the air. "A whoosh."

"A caron?"

"I don't know what a fucking caron is. A whoosh. Like this," Stan showed the ID to his friend. Let Mr. Linguistmaster figure it out. 

"That's a caron, you moron. Adam Hr... Hři... Hřivec?"

"How do you know how to pronounce that?" Stan quietly yelled, grabbing his ID back. Kyle hissed that he didn't know, it just came to him. He teased him that he thought Stan would be the operation's brain, given the coat and hat. 

"That'd make you the muscle, and we can't have that, can we, ya fucking string bean."

They had no other place to go but towards the reflectors. The invisible walls hit them again, not letting them go past a particular line. The grass behind that line looked like a big blob of green, not moving in the wind. It didn't even consist of blades of grass.

Stan took the lead as a detective. They passed what seemed was a cave opening, maybe an adit. He wasn't sure what an adit was; he never even used that word in his life. But his mind just flashed with the name when he looked at the entrance to the tunnel.

Weird.

They finally saw some human civilization. That's a great start. They observed the rain still falling slowly under the bright white lights. They couldn't see past the military caravans, just now noticing a soldier standing next to the adit, guarding the entrance. They had a bad feeling it's going to be important. 

Everything's always either guarded or locked. Or out of batteries.

A colonel guarded one of the caravans, the one closest to the green tents. They couldn't see what was under the tent, the light not shining there. On the other side was a heavy parking barrier with two soldiers on each side. Both boys were grateful they came from the other side. They just hoped they were welcome.

They approached the first caravan, trying to get the soldier's attention. They spoke at him, standing a little to the side. Nothing. He ignored them, staring into the dark nowhere, the rain dripping from his cap. Oh, so he could get wet but they couldn't? "What's his problem?"

"I don't... know. Try standing right in front of him."

Stan sighed, taking Kyle's advice. As soon as he stood on the right spot, the soldier's eyes shot up. He started a conversation with Stan, greeting him, and awaiting more questions. He asked him how his case is going, Stan pretending he knows what he's talking about. It's going great. He shot Kyle a little look, doing a doubletake to see if he caught Kyle's surprised expression correctly. 

But he asked the colonel about this place, finding out it's a military camp. The place was called something he couldn't repeat, a guarded place in the middle of the woods. From the context, he understood he was there to investigate a murder. Kyle was there as protection and his escort.

Stan asked a few more useless questions, asking him what's in the caravan. He couldn't tell him; it was the general's caravan. He forbade anyone from entering.

Oh, is that so.

Now they have to get in. 

He already forgot most of the info he received. He asked him again about this site, the man repeating word for word exactly what he said before. Stan was a little taken back, trying to ask something random. The man didn't answer, staring blankly. He tried again, the same response.

This was getting stranger by the second. It looked as if he could answer only a few questions he was programmed to. That came to Stan's mind first, before asking whatever he wanted. Somewhere in his mind, somewhere in the back, lingered the few questions he was supposed to ask.

He thanked him, making his way back to Kyle. His mouth was still open in shock. "What the hell was that?"

"I know, he seems w-"

"Not that! Wha-... How?!" Kyle quietly yelled, Stan getting more and more confused. What was he talking about? He looked as if he'd just seen a monster. Wouldn't be too strange, given the circumstances.

"What?"

"What, what?"

"What do you mean? You just talked in a foreign language for like five minutes!"

"What?!" Stan took a step back, looking back at the colonel as if he had the answers. No... No, he couldn't. He would've noticed for Christ's sake.

"You... Don't know?" 

"No!"

"Then what the hell does 'děkuji, plukovníku' mean!"

"Thank you, colonel- Oh damn!" Stan covered his mouth as if something cursed had come out. He had no idea how he knew. Could... Could it be that he talked in a language he didn't understand for the past five minutes? "Fucking hell, are we in a foreign game?" He knew if that's the case, they're either dealing with monsters, spooky woods, or the military. Possibly all three. "You try it!"

"What?"

"Go talk to him!" Stan pushed him into the right spot, the colonel speaking to Kyle. He gave Stan a startled stare, carrying on with the conversation. He had the same experience, the man answering, but it was in a language he shouldn't understand. He moved his jaw around and touched his lips, acting as if that had anything to do with it. 

"What the hell?!"

"Trippy, yeah?" 

They walked around the camp, stopping under a military tent. They looked over the military plans and maps, Kyle taking some rope from the table. Not one soldier was looking their way, why not. He searched through the papers, reading mission plans, and swiping through maps upon maps. He couldn't make out one thing from them, the lines crossing each other in a sea of nonsense. They didn't teach him this in school.

"What do we do now," Stan turned to his friend, looking over the whole camp. The soldiers stood in their places, not moving an inch. 

"I don't know. Maybe we should... I mean... Go investigate the murder?"

"I can't believe I'm here to solve a crime. We-... We're too dumb for this."

"I mean from what I understood... This," he pulled out the scroll from Stan's pocket, "is the man we're looking for. A murder suspect." Kyle unrolled the scroll, revealing a pencil sketch of their man on the run. 

Stan wasn't convinced, taking the paper from him. "And you got that from where?"

"The... The soldier told me. You didn't hear?"

"I don't exactly speak the language, Kyle."

"Yeah, but... Oh man, I guess he told us different things. This sucks. But look," he grabbed the sketch back, holding it against one of the reflectors to have a better look at it.

At first, they both thought they were seeing things. The moment Stan held the sketch up, it started glowing and dimming, glowing and dimming again. Stan let out a few confused sighs, took the paper, and scanned it from both sides. Nothing.

Just the face of a man.

And then he put it back up, and it started glowing again.

He kept putting it up and down, asking Kyle if he sees this shit. He only put it up halfway. It was still glowing. He looked behind it, seeing there's the soldier who they just spoke to.

Stan walked up to him, holding the paper up and down. "Wha-... What?" he whispered.

"Show it to him!" To Stan, it would've been the obvious choice when playing a video game. But when he was the actual detective, not so much. He stood on the place, the soldier greeting him once again. 

Stan handed him the paper, the soldier saying it's their general. 

Oh shit.

He asked why they were asking. 

Oh shit, squared. 

He couldn't tell him he's probably a murder suspect. Stan managed to stutter out that they were just checking if they gave them the accurate description of their superior officer. They were supposed to have a chat with him about the murder, or some similar bullshit lie. 

But the general was locked in the tent, and they could under no circumstances disturb him or enter the caravan. 

Well, there go their plans.

"The murder suspect is their general," Stan whispered, hiding under the tent's roof again. Kyle saw the worry in his face, jamming the paper back into his pocket. He reached over for a cup that was placed back on the table. It didn't budge.

He tried with both hands, and then he tried to move the plate next to it. Nothing. Stan wondered what his friend was doing, trying to rip the mug off of the table. He put his leg on the edge, adding some leverage. 

"Listen, maybe we're not supposed just to steal everything."

"But... I took this piece of rope."

"I guess we'll use it."

"Rope?"

"I... Guess?"

"God, this is sure taking turns."

They split their responsibilities. Kyle would talk to the soldier by the entrance to the tunnel, Stan checking the surroundings for anything that they could use or further clues. They agreed they'd meet back under the tent. If this game ends with them convicting the general, they're in big trouble. Shooting monsters was okay; solving crime wasn't.

"Any updates?"

"I found... Mushrooms," Stan spilled them on the table, telling Kyle there isn't anything else around. Just a pack of wild mushrooms. 

"I talked to the boy. He can't let me in. It's not explored yet. They're waiting for some special unit to come. Could have some mines inside or some shit. Also, he hasn't had dinner because he was on duty. Should... Should we bring him something?"

"Sure. Mud with mushrooms? Or perhaps he could chomp down the golden totem."

"God. Shit. What do we do? Didn't you find anything else?" Something twinkled in the corner of Stan's eye. He looked by the tent, picking up a thick branch from the ground. 

"I... also found a stick. There's a huge pile of wood down the road. And a canister of something, but I couldn't pry it open."

"Did you try the wrench?"

"N- Fuck. Give me a few seconds."

Stan came back, out of breath. It was gasoline in the canister. Kyle was standing by the table with strategic maps, all his belongings laid out. He asked Stan to lay out his stuff too. He had an idea.

The moment Stan put the golden statue on the table, the door to the tent burst open. He quickly slid it back into his pocket, turning around and locking eyes with their suspect.

The general.

He busts out of the caravan, greeting them shortly in a language they shouldn't understand, but they did. He said he's there to help, but they knew that was a nice lie. He left, ignoring the things laid on a table. That... Probably wasn't programmed in the game. A car arrived, possibly the special unit. He had to assist them.

Now's their chance. Kyle sneaked in first, into the dark tent. They couldn't turn on the light, alerting the others that they're in. Stan found some batteries on the table by the entrance, the light not reaching much further. 

Kyle shone the flashlight on supplies and weapons, stacked from the floor to the roof. His flashlight skipped from one shelf to the other, the boys getting their hands on whatever shone and whatever they could grab. 

That included a key, a can of beans, and a hammer. A bloody hammer, while they were at that. Well, they had their murder weapon now. The general was probably trying to hide it but got disturbed by the reinforcements arriving. 

But they soon heard voices, Kyle turning off his flashlight, both boys freezing in horror. What if he finds them here?

Stan was the one to take the initiative, grabbing Kyle's arm and pulling him out of the trap. They barely managed to slip out, the general passing them without batting an eye. They prayed they didn't leave a hair out of place, the general locking himself in promptly.

They threw their new loot on the table, analyzing what they have and where to move from here. 

"I... Oh man, I hope this works," Kyle sighed, taking the stick and hovering it above each of the items, see if it'll glow. It did when it hovered over the rag, Stan letting out an excited squeal. They didn't know what exactly to do with it, but they moved somewhere, and that's important. They continued. 

He grabbed the stick with a rag loosely wrapped around the end, hovering it above the rest of the items. It started glowing right above the rope. So they wrapped the rope tightly around the rag, making what seemed was a homemade torch. 

Stan thought for a second, taking the blowtorch to the gasoline tank. It glowed, and he wasted no time dunking it in. This progress was making the wheels in his head turn, excited they're making progress. Stan ran back to the tent, holding the matches in one hand and the torch in the other. They both glowed.

He ran back to the pile of wood, setting the torch on fire and chucking it at the pile. It immediately started to burn, but no one seemed alarmed. The fire was big, but after a while, it stopped spreading.

Proud of himself, he made it back only to see Kyle standing over an open can of beans in... In whatever they were preserved in. He asked what happened, Kyle pointing at the little mushrooms he put in. They glowed too. 

He wasn't sure what to do with it. Chuck it into the fire too? He took the can, holding it in front of him and spinning around, seeing when it'll glow. It did right when he held it pointed at the soldier guarding the underground tunnels. He looked very grateful for a snack. At least he did one good deed.

Stan alerted the colonel guarding the caravan that there's a fire by the woods, the worried man immediately taking off. He yelled for others, other soldiers appearing out of the sheer ether. That should keep them occupied for a while.

The key fit perfectly into the lock. They heard some rustling coming from behind, freezing in shock. Oh shit, they're so busted. 

Both boys turned around in horror, Stan still holding the lock and key, the door not yet unlocked. But it was only the boy guarding the tunnels, running into the shrubs by the woods, bending over. It wasn't a pretty sight, the boy probably throwing up everything he ate in the last week.

Stan whistled, as to let Kyle know he's impressed with him. But Kyle couldn't wipe the look of sheer horror and guilt off of his face. "What kind of mushrooms were those?" he hissed at Stan, poking his hip. 

"You act as if I know! I found them by the road!" he whispered, unlocking the door. They were in. "You're the one who put them in, anyway."

The caravan was dark and tiny, only a small bed in the middle and a few shelves on the walls. Probably where the general slept. They managed to turn on the light but had no idea where the electricity was coming from. It hung from one thin wire, shining dull yellow light that barely illuminated the room. But that wasn't the main point.

There was a suitcase on the bed. It was clear that's their next checkpoint. Stan kneeled next to it, checking it from every side. "Hope you know the passcode, baby boy."

"Passcode?!" Kyle spat out, checking out the suitcase himself. In the middle sat a set of three rings, each spun to reveal a number from 0 to 9. They had to figure out the passcode, and they had to figure it out quickly.

If Stan guessed correctly, there were 1000 options. Not something they could do in 90 seconds. He asked Kyle if he hadn't seen a code scribbled somewhere, feeling as if his brain will overheat from thinking so much. He tried to remember every detail he has seen, but nothing came up. Same with Kyle. 

Kyle wanted to march out and look for the code, Stan following him. They got in once, and they'll get in again. But the door was locked from the outside, not giving them a chance to escape. They were stuck in there to think of a solution. Preferably also a passcode.

Kyle felt his breaths quicken, his body jumping at every sound. He could already see the general entering, but there wasn't anywhere to hide either. Stan was rolling the numbers, hoping to hear the heavenly click. His hands were shaking and sweating. With each number that did nothing, it was getting harder and harder to fiddle with the passcode. 

Kyle was nervously standing by, his eyes jumping from Stan to the door and back.

_Click_.

Their eyes shot up, looking at the door. Their stares were met with the general, seeing fury boil up in his face. They didn't let out one peep, not having the chance before he reached behind his belt, pulling out his gun.

_Bang_.

Stan kneeled next to the suitcase, checking it from every side. "Hope you know the passcode, baby boy."

"Passcode?!" Kyle spat out, checking out the suitcase himself. He stopped for a while. This... This felt weird. "Have we- We did this before."

"What?"

"We've already done this," Kyle looked around, Stan spinning the numbers. Kyle convinced him to start from 3, and he already checked the previous numbers. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something will happen; something will get in their way. But he couldn't remember what. He couldn't remember if this actually happened or if it's just his mind playing games. 

Stan didn't seem too worried about it, looking tirelessly for the code. Kyle couldn't help him either way. So they waited. He walked around the room, Stan switching numbers. 

_Click_.

The door opened. 

He didn't have time to warn Stan about the colonel, seeing his face light up in the same red flames as before, emotions stirring in his eyes as soon ah he saw the intruders near his suitcase. He wanted no time pulling out his weapon. 

_Bang_.

Stan kneeled next to the suitcase, checking it from every side. "Hope you know the passcode, baby boy."

Both boys looked at each other in confusion. They were here before and done this already. Something felt like it was repeating. He tried hard to remember, telling Stan to stop fiddling with the numbers and help him. He felt it too.

A vague image appeared in his head; someone is busting the door open. He didn't know how much time he had. He wasn't sure what it even meant, but they had to keep an eye on the door.

Kyle had a similar vision. He saw someone drawing a gun, and then his consciousness fading away. They put their stories together, coming up with an unpleasant idea.

What now? They knew to unlock the suitcase and grab whatever was in was their only way out. Trying out all combinations was taking so long, and they couldn't use a password they didn't have.

But they had one thing—a mind of their own.

It was a janky plan. But the worst that could happen was they'd wake up at the same place once again. They had to give it a try. Hoping it'd work was better than waiting around for a shot in the head. 

Kyle hid by the door, Stan letting himself be used as a target. Hope really hoped it'd work, and he won't end up being stuck in here while Kyle gets away. 

_Click_.

The door burst open, the same general standing there as before. They saw him go through all of the emotions as before, Kyle taking the initiative and grabbing the man's hand before he could reach for his pistol. 

Kyle battled with the general, one hand holding his arm and the other grabbing him under his neck. He pulled him towards the wall, Stan quickly jumping into action and grabbing the gun from the struggling man. He let out choked up groans and yells, Kyle trying his best to shut him up. 

They hoped the muffled yells wouldn't make it outside, grabbing the attention of other soldiers. Stan fought through the general's desperate grabs, pulling the gun out of his pocket. 

The whole world shifted for a second, and it felt as if it stopped, and every cell in their body cracked and let out an uncomfortable click. He swiftly pointed the gun at him, shooting.

The man fell limp in Kyle's arms in seconds. He dropped him, surprised by the sudden weight in his arms. The moment he hit the ground, all color left the world but came back after a few seconds.

Stan stopped to check himself and Kyle, patting his arms and his face. Everything seemed normal, and maybe it was just a little bug.

Then they heard the roars outside.

And maybe they just glitched the whole game. 

They stood by the door, taking deep breaths and trying to gather up the courage to see what's outside. "You think we should go?"

"We fucked up… Big time," Stan groaned, waving the gun he was holding around. He wasn't exactly sure what went through their heads at that moment, but he blamed it on the basic human instinct he liked to call 'I'd rather not get shot three times in a row'.

But he attended to the suitcase. He could finally fiddle with the numbers, undisturbed. 

935 was the number. That was the right combination before he finally heard the suitcase pop open. Inside laid another golden totem, similar to the one Stan was hiding in his multi-dimensional pocket. Except the head looked different, it had a frightened expression. The one he found in his pocket looked happy. 

Under it laid another scroll—a treasure map of some kind. "Give me that," Kyle hissed, snatching it from Stan's hands. "What am I, fucking Indiana Jones?" 

"Does that mean we have to go to…" Stan scanned the map again. "…Belize?! We have to go to Belize?"

"Don't even tell me our levers are located on the other side of the freaking world." Kyle thought he might just start screaming uncontrollably. He'll build his own lever out of wood and these totems and stand outside until the lighting hits him. He didn't care too much anymore.  
  
They gathered enough courage to go outside. Not really, but there wasn't much left to do than face the horrors causing havoc outside. 

Kyle busted the door open, greeted by the hanging jaws of a wolf he smashed to bits a few games back. His torn jaws were now closer than he ever hoped they would be. It was the vilest thing he's ever smelled, the beat roaring, rotten spit and juices flying everywhere. 

He was so starstruck by seeing it again, and he barely noticed Stan peeking from behind his shoulder and shooting the beast right through its throat. It fell down the stairs leading up to the caravan.

They peeked out, wondering who else they'll be meeting again. They were met with the boy who guarded the tunnels earlier, still bent over the bushed. Except now, his legs were stretched up to high heaven, the boy glitching and moving from side to side, his graphics somewhere in deep hell. 

He was waving in the wind, his torso and legs unnaturally stretched up, they could barely see where he ended. Okay, they might've messed up big time. 

"Do we run to Belize now?" Stan yelled after Kyle, seeing a familiar horde approaching them. They frantically looked for anything else than a measly pistol with four bullets left. That won't do much good against 23 men who marched towards them from the forest, and all huddled up in apocalyptic armor.

Kyle ran behind the caravan, stopped midway by a trolley falling from the sky. It was the same one they shot down. It smashed down on about half of the horde, cutting their problem in half. 

The men were still getting closer and closer, suddenly disappearing from one place and appearing on the other side of the camp. And then disappearing again and appearing on top of trees, under the tent, floating in the sky. 

They wanted to run away, but the tunnel's entrance started shining, glowing and dimming, glowing and dimming like the paper before. They realized Belize wasn't their final destination.

Instead, a military tunnel. 

They never noticed how far it is. Kyle saw something glisten in the ground, picking up a shiny red shotgun. This is more like it.

He was so preoccupied with his new toy, and he almost didn't notice Stan being dragged away by the hungry undead. They appeared out of nowhere, no noise to warn them. Just sudden groaning. Kyle heard some familiar cries and then Stan's yells for help. 

He swiftly turned around, shooting without even aiming. He didn't think much about what would happen if he accidentally shot Stan. Kyle didn't realize the shotgun's bullets flew into every which direction, igniting whatever they pierced through. 

The undead dragging Stan away yelled in pain, twisting under the pain and burning. Stan ran to safety, barely escaping the flames. Kyle kept shooting, the zombies huddling together in a glorious fireball. They fell on the wet grass, the fire slowly dying. But what came after that didn't compare.

Out of the forest crawled out another horde of the undead, all of them tripping over each other and limping, carrying around packets of sweets. 

A few desperate 'no! 's escaped from Kyle's throat, backing away from the squirming swarm of undead bodies, this time gnawing on whatever sweets they could reach. They recognized the sugar hearts; the mob swallowing them by handfuls.

Then the changes started. They saw them burn and decay, they saw them bleed honey, and they saw them almost drowning by the water pouring out of every orifice. They saw electricity run through their arms and legs. The familiar '80s tunes started playing in the background again. 

The horde was coming closer, not stopping for one second to observe the effects. Granted, they didn't have a functioning brain, but feeling 2000 volts shoot up your arm would even startle a fly. 

Kyle and Stan stared in horror as the undead started falling, one after the other, still shoveling sugar hearts into their decaying mouths. They couldn't have even guessed what would happen if someone ate the electric and water candy at the same time. Or fire and corrosive. Their bodies spazzed in shocks, fire blowing up over them. They saw swarms circle around them in chaos, bees bumping into birds, and fighting for their lives, their arms and legs turn into stone.

What began as their sure demise turned into a comical bloodbath, the zombies taking themselves out. 

The door to the tunnel seemed too far away, still. Stan managed to snatch one of the bags with candy hearts, saying a little prayer before popping another fire candy in his mouth. He liked that one. 

Few members of the horde appeared in front of them, Kyle shooting until he ran out of bullets. He then threw the gun at them, the gun exploding and covering them in flames. 

Well, this is new.

The girl from the flying kingdom appeared in front of them, color running in and out of her face. "Oh, shi-... It's you."

"I've... been working for the king for som- I've be-... King-g. Worki-... I've... been working for the king for some-" she repeated, her face twisting under all the different expressions, twitching unnaturally. Her speech kept glitching, repeating, and twisting the words. Soon enough, her body started going from one side to the other, her arms shooting up and spinning like the soldier before. 

The boys knew they broke the world. They looked at their path, a few caravans, and a trench. Oh, and what seemed to be The Incinerator, just multiplied about 100 times, forming a whole crown in front of the tunnel. New men kept appearing and disappearing, the crowd losing and gaining its shape. 

They didn't feel scared anymore. The whole world was such a mess; the most they felt was inconvenienced. They just wanted to go home. But they knew they could handle whatever guns, superpowers, monsters, and beasts they threw at them. 

The sky inverted its colors for a second, the whole world shaking with a loud beep. Down fell one controller, right into Kyle's hands. He looked at Stan in confusion, just now noticing the fire slithering up and down his arms. He actually ate the candy but didn't let out a single peep. Maybe it gets easier the second time. Maybe your hands don't burn into two coals.

But Kyle knew when they're back, Stan'll be having a breakdown over papercuts. Oh, the duality of man. 

Shortly after the controller landed in Kyle's hands, down came crashing a pod, just like in the arena. The ground by The Incinerator opened up, out coming a few missiles. "Have at it boys," screeched a voice between them, the tiny host of their arena battle. 

They couldn't take their eyes off of how big the missiles were, towering even over the men. It was tempting just to nuke the whole site, but they didn't trust the little man.

The men didn't notice the deadly weapons, jumping over the trench with ease, eyes locked on their targets. Weaponless and vulnerable. They roared and fired up their guns, coming closer and closer. The boys felt the heat from their flamethrowers, promptly turning around and finding the shortest path away. 

As soon as they turned, a beast roared into their face again, black fog coming over like a blanket. It kept reaching its head towards them and back, stuck in a loop. Stan tried to take care of it with fire, both boys running away before finding out if it killed the beast. They saw more appear behind it, chasing them.

They almost ran into a caravan, the door opening and out marching general after general, a never-ending stream of men who pulled out their guns, one after the other. They barely made it out, bullets flying in a beautiful sequence.

Stan grabbed Kyle's hand, pulling the starstruck boy away but felt Kyle drag him to the ground, letting out a choked up scream. He looked down at him, the boy gripping his leg and staring at the generals. They were still shooting away, Stan pulling Kyle up and grabbing him by the hand, the one with which he held his leg.

Stan felt his hand get wet, looking down while running away. He didn't want to think about the blood dripping from their hands, blood spilling out of Kyle's wound. He didn't know how he managed to keep on running. Maybe it was all the adrenaline.

The dark fog didn't go away. Instead, their way was blocked by a wall of fire and manic laughter. They slid on the wet grass, ground almost disappearing from under their feet. They ran, ducked down to miss any direct fire, the heat scorching their faces. 

They were followed by barks and growls, running through the dark and not seeing a way out. Stan swore he could feel one of the beasts bite and tear, but there wasn't time to stop and look. They ran, not noticing the trenches. Both fell, tumbling down the steep hill and landing in the mud. They were close, so close. Kyle picked them up, ignoring the sharp pain shooting up from his calf, up into his hip. It hurt, burned, and stung with every step he took, but he couldn't let it slow him down.

He just realized how much he's sweating, the salt mixing with all the wounds he ignored. Stan noticed the same. Only now did they see the scratches on their arms and hands and faces, bitten and torn clothes, and burned skin and bruised skin.

Just now did they realize the flamethrowers burned them but they didn't realize, the undead scratched and gnawed, but they ignored it, the wolf biting and roaring, tearing flesh and cloth off of them. But they ignored it, only seeing the door.

The door.

Stan helped Kyle crawl up the other side of the trench, pulling him up with the last bits of his strength. He didn't notice how exhausted he was until he slowed down. Just now did the tiredness hit him, slowly falling on his head and mind. 

The fog rose, revealing all of the horrors they encountered closely following them. They were incoming, ready to tear them apart.

They wasted no time running for the door, prying it open and racing down the tunnel halls, all alone in the dark, wet corridors.

They didn't know whether it'd fall on them, the walls giving up or mines going off. They just followed the path, finally approaching two levers.

Finally.

Instinctively, they held hands, each boy grabbing a lever. Kyle gripped the controller in his hand.

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

They pulled it down, the world losing itself in a flash of white, deafening thunder rolling over the realm of horrors.

Kyle blinked his eyes open, sprawled all over the bed. He felt something heavy on his legs, looking down and seeing Stan laid across of him. This was a familiar room. This was a familiar bed. He was so happy, and he thanked whoever finally let them get home.

They were back in their sweatpants. Kyle looked at the TV, their game disconnected. The cup of hot cocoa was now spilled on his carpet. They barely managed to stand up, their bodies sore and stiff. The bruises and scratches weren't making it easier. With a few unenthusiastic groans and mumbles, they sat up, looking at each other to confirm that what has happened has... really happened. 

They cautiously looked around the room, worried a beast might jump out of nowhere. Stan observed the world outside, Kyle peeking into the hallway. Everything seemed to be okay.

They weren't sure what happened. They had no clue. It was the most intense experience of their life. Never have they been closer to death. If they remembered correctly, they died a few times.

Kyle looked at his friend, still observing the outside. "Weird wolf beast?"

"The Incinerator?"

"Tight jumpsuits?"

"Big pockets?"

"Shit, I can't believe we went throu- Oh no."

"What?"

"Oh, man."

"What happene-"

"It didn't save our progress!" Kyle whined, gripping the controller so he wouldn't throw it on the opposite side of the room. He pointed at the TV, showing Stan the home screen.

He looked just as shocked. "Are you fucking kidding me? All 7 hours?"

"All 7 hours!"

"Oh, man I... Oh wait. What's that?" he pointed at his wall, a framed picture he hasn't seen before. He and Kyle sneaked closer. It was the general's sketch. 

"That's insane."

"Oh wow, he looks uglier than I remembered."

"He really does."

They stood under the picture for five minutes, taking it in. This was three levels wilder than insane.

"So... I don't know. You want to start this new game my mom got me?"

"Sure."

Kyle put the CD in, starting it up. Their characters woke up, blinking their eyes open. They looked around, vision still blurry, finding themselves in an abandoned cabin.


	16. Poco Lento E Grazioso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> between two princes and two kingdoms  
they both knew from the moment they caught a glimpse of each other so long ago. they knew

Kyle leads his prince for the night through the hydrangea bushes and wildflowers, skipping over rocks and dips. He can feel them barely touching, Stanley is holding onto the edge of his embroidered sleeve so slightly. So he won’t lose him in the dark. He doesn’t want to lose him tonight.

Stanley’s mere look makes Kyle think there’s a whole garden inside of him, flowers blooming every time their eyes meet, a butterfly fluttering its wings whenever they speak. It wonderfully tingles when he smiles at him, every part of him basking in that sight. 

The lanterns shine a dim light on everything around. Kyle finds his way to his favorite place. He finally sees the clearing right behind the west tower, ducking under a rose bush. He knows there won’t be anyone around. Somehow, he managed to keep this place a secret.

When he first found it, it was an accident. But getting lost around the castle as a kid while running through the gardens has never been so rewarding. It’s a quiet place to slip away when he needs to clear his head, when the guards always by his door get too overwhelming, when sometimes he needs to let out a few tears without the whole castle being alarmed. 

It’s his little paradise in between the mossy walls of the castle and wildflowers. The air is always a little cooler, it still has that little spark of freshness. And now he’s sharing it with Stanley. 

He quickly finds his spot on a rock near the wall, leaving Stanley to observe the area. He stands in the middle and looks around and takes in the sight. As much as he’d like to look at the flowers and trees, his eyes travel back to Kyle. He can’t take his eyes off of him. In a place full of such beauty and bloom, Kyle’s the only one his eyes want to see.

And so he doesn’t deny himself that pleasure, taking in what he had to tear his eyes off of in the ballroom hall. Even when he’s sitting under a dim light, giving the flora around the stage to shine, Stanley only has eyes for him. He doesn’t need the light above him to shine. 

Stanley doesn’t know much about him. He saw him for the first time tonight, but he knows he can only think about him now. The way his hair falls on his face and the way he looks up at him when Stanley reaches out his hand...

He asks him for a dance again. Kyle hesitantly takes his hand. He tries to push down the smile creeping up on his face, but Stanley can clearly see, his own joy fighting its way out. And Kyle sees that the world is a better place when Stanley smiles.

Kyle turned down Stanley’s offer for a dance once earlier that night. Stanley didn’t question him, he realized he approached the boy in a full ballroom, all eyes closely following the two princes, what they did and what they said and where they looked. He knew it was bad publicity for them to speak for too long, but he couldn’t help it. He decided not to care about the norms and guidelines, just for a moment. So he could speak to Kyle, so he could have him look his way, smile, take his hand, and dance in the ballroom. And it would be like it’s just the two of them, Stanley didn’t know, but he hoped. And then he saw Kyle’s eyes nervously look around the hall as soon as he spoke to him and asked, politely declining. 

Kyle didn’t want to say no. But something in him told him, no, yelled to decline. He knew there should be a princess, a dutchess that they’d much rather see dance with him. It wasn’t his place to take in the ballroom, even though it was his family’s castle and his family’s ceremony, and he knew he should be asking another lady, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He felt like he was stuck to his chair, the world around him, turning and twisting so quickly, he couldn’t jump in and join in on the ball.

He sat glued to his chair, twisting his cufflinks between his fingers. He didn’t want to only sit there and look at everyone dancing, he didn’t. But he couldn’t find the courage to act on anything else.

Until he saw Stanley by the entrance, fixing the hem of his jacket. Kyle wanted to pretend he didn’t see the hint of hurt in his eyes. But he did see it, clear as day, and he couldn’t tell himself no, he couldn’t tell himself to sit down, he couldn’t tell himself to stop. But he could tell himself to walk a little faster, hoping to catch Stanley right before his ride comes.

He watched the main gate close, barely catching Stanley as he was skipping down the steps with his head hung low. He softly called out his name, the man turned around in surprise. He was glad the guards were well down the stairway. They didn’t turn around to see what was happening. “Is something wrong, your highness?”

Kyle only stuttered a quiet no, already questioning his decision to so recklessly run after him. But he knew he’d curse himself if he let him go. He didn’t want to let the prince go.

“I can’t turn down a prince, can I?” Kyle laughs softly, standing up and letting Stanley take the lead. Stanley’s glad to see the prince is a little more himself. He walks back to the field, right where moonlight slips in between the leaves and branches. 

“It seems you can’t.” Stanley let go of the prince’s hand, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to hold his hand the whole night. And Kyle stands right in front of him, his eyes caressing his face and lips and the medals that hang from his blue jacket, reflecting in the moonlight. And the golden tassels on his shoulders that dance every time he moves.

“I’m still a little rusty with my steps, your highness,” Kyle warns his dance partner.

“Not to worry, this is a private ball.”

They both bow their necks, a bow as a formal greeting. Stanley lowers even more and puts his hand out, offering to take Kyle’s hand in the dance. And when he holds Kyle’s hand, everything feels a little more right than it did seconds ago, and neither can tell what it was.

And it feels even more correct when he puts his hand on the small of Kyle’s back, pulling the boy closer and holding him firmly, yet gently. As he would with a princess. And Kyle wraps his hand around his shoulders, trying to keep a decent distance between them. Still, the overwhelming smell of Stanley’s perfume, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla makes his knees weak. He makes Kyle’s heart race just by standing close. Kyle doesn’t even notice the flash in his cheeks when Stanley looks right into his eyes, smiling in a way that only he knew. 

It is a smile that makes Kyle’s stomach turn into a knot. He hardly resists lying on his shoulder. “But… There’s no music playing,” he whispers cautiously, not to disturb the whole night. It is slow and peaceful, quiet, to only let you hear the leaves ruffling and crickets singing. But Stanley shushes him, telling him to listen. And he listens and hears the orchestra of the ball playing in the background, just softly enough for them to hear.

At that moment, they play for them and only them.

There is no one else in the whole world.

Stanley takes a step back, guiding Kyle with his moves. He knows where to move, where to hold, and where to look. He looks right into Stanley’s eyes, seeing millions of stars in them. 

They can’t describe what it feels like. It feels correct, like two puzzle pieces falling in together. Though they knew each other’s names, they never knew each other. But today was finally the night, after all those nights when they met at ceremonies and balls. After all those nights, when they kept catching glimpses of the other and quickly looking somewhere else, wishing they could just dance together, instead of keeping far and away, after all the nights. They are finally dancing together. Holding the other’s hand. Looking into the other’s eyes. Wondering why something so innocent and beautiful took so long.

Stanley guides him, turning them around, one two three, one two three, right into the sound of violins and flutes, playing only for them and no one else in the world. 

Kyle can’t get the boy out of his head. Ever since he saw him, ever since they danced together under just the moonlight, he’s all he’s been thinking of. He never noticed how empty his arms were until he let him go. He never noticed how cold the air was until he couldn’t feel Stanley’s breath on his neck with every little laugh. He never noticed how the stars just didn’t shine so bright when… Ever since the ball.

He sits on his bed, hesitant to turn off the light. He isn’t tired just yet. The night keeps dragging on and on, he tries to pick up a book from their library, only getting through the first few pages. His mind is too restless for him to concentrate on the words. He reads the word ethereal, and he immediately thinks about how Stanley looked under the sheer light. He reads the word heavenly, and he can’t get the thought of Stanley’s smile out of his mind. Heavenly, heavenly, the author repeats the word heavenly, and Kyle’s stomach clenches every time his eyes graze over it. 

He laughs, closing the book. This is so ridiculous. His mind is playing with him. There’s no reason for him to be thinking about the boy he danced with one night for so long. He doesn’t want to think about him that much. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t stop. It is almost like a guilty pleasure. 

His mind tries to focus hard on his canvas, on the colors he spreads around, some of them intentionally and some of them instinctively. He looks at the way the blue and brown mix, diluting the color into a dreamy blue. But the swipes of his brush feel too forced, not carrying the lightness they usually do. He can’t tune out his own thoughts and get lost in the colors and swipes.

He tries but is soon brought out of his daydreams. Something hits his window softly. It clinks and falls down. And another clink. It sounds like a rock. Kyle cautiously approaches the window, pulling open the two big wings and leaning out. And he sees him.

Stanley. He stands in between the bushes and fragrant plants, standing next to every flower you can imagine, colors more vivid than the rainbow, holding their beauty even during the night yet… Yet he stands out like a crown jewel next to them. And he gives Kyle that smile, that smile he saw when he picked his head up from his shoulder when they swayed in the orchestra’s melodies far away. He sees it, and he can’t find a short enough way downstairs. 

Kyle doesn’t care to grab a coat, he doesn’t care to scrub the wet paint off his fingers. He doesn’t care if he wakes up the whole castle, alerting every guard on his way. He doesn’t care, briefly brushing them all off. Kyle barely finds the words to convince them it’s fine, that he’s alright. That he just wants to go for a little night walk. Get some fresh air, clear his head. 

He knows that isn’t the case. Kyle hopes to get his head filled with more memories of catching a glimpse of Stanley while he’s stealing a look or the memory of soft cinnamon filling the air when he holds him. And them barely touching, softly and gently. Still, this wall of the unknown, keeping them from taking just one tiny step closer. A little closer. That’s all Stanley wants to be now. Just a little closer to Kyle.

“Your highness,” Stanley bows, taking Kyle’s hand gently. Kyle swears he can feel his heart skip a beat when Stanley looks up at him, giving his hand a little kiss.

“Prince Kyle, I never imagined I’d be seeing you here at this time.”

“My soul couldn’t bear one more second without seeing you.” His chest feels a little tighter when he sees Kyle look away, his eyelashes softly batting over his eyes. And that small smile, a little shy, a little hesitant. But he never lets go of Stanley’s hand, maybe he even holds it a little tighter. The wind blows harder, picking up flower petals and leaves and their fragrance and mixing them into the air, into their hair, into their clothes. 

The night is humid and warm, almost sweet. Kyle watches the leaves sweep across the tiles and float in the air. He watches them, and one sticks to Stanley’s cheek, and he watches that one for a long second too. He tries to caress it away, brings his hand up, but takes a while because he can’t look away from Stanley’s eyes. He just can’t. And he still holds his other hand while he swipes the petal away from his cheek, leaving behind a blue smudge.

Stanley is a little surprised by the sudden coldness on his cheek, and Kyle’s eyes widen in horror. He apologizes, just now realizing the blue paint smudges on his fingers. Stanley can’t hold back a soft laugh, he assures Kyle it’s okay. But he doesn’t take it, whispering soft apologies. He tries to wipe it away with whatever clean finger he has, and Stanley thinks it’s so sweet he’s so worried. He tells him it’s okay a few more times before also taking Kyle’s other hand, not too keen on stopping Kyle from caressing his face, but he takes it and holds it so softly, and Kyle holds his hand a little tighter again. 

Stanley tells him not to worry one more time before Kyle agrees, telling him the blue swipe on his cheeks suits him. It really does, it makes him look like an artist.

They speak about art as Kyle leads him through the gardens. They talk about music, about books, about their kingdoms and their days. In the end, that’s what Kyle is the most interested in. In Stanley.

They speak, and Kyle feels as if he’s known him for years. He speaks softly, Kyle taking in every word that leaves his lips. Stanley asks him if he’s not cold. It’s night, after all, and he’s in just a flowy shirt. But Stanley doesn’t fail to notice how it falls on his shoulders perfectly, framing him unlike anything else, and Stanley wants to fix his collar and the undone buttons and maybe even take it off of him. Stanley offers him his jacket, he begins to take it off to put it on Kyle’s shoulders, but he stops him. He says it’s okay. That he shouldn’t worry. And Stanley just smiles, and they continue.

Kyle stops for a second, he stops right by the daisies. He smiles, remembering how he always begged the gardener to keep them there even though his mother wanted them gone. He loved them. Even if they grew freely in the garden, they still could compare to the prettiest roses. They grew wild and free, and he could never take his eyes off of them, even with all the dahlias and orchids around.

They speak softly for a while, Stanley wondering why Kyle stopped. He holds his hands behind his back, tilting his head as he hears Kyle’s story. It’s wonderful. Anything Kyle says is wonderful. And then Kyle looks at him and keeps looking for a second too long. Stanley wonders if this is the right moment. He leans in, lightly touching Kyle’s face, lighter than a feather. But Kyle turns away, blissfully unaware of Stanley’s intentions. His attention is still on the flowers.

A wide smile spreads across Stanley’s face. Kyle asks him what’s so funny. It’s nothing, he replies. It’s nothing.

Kyle bends over, plucking the prettiest daisy from the ground. He looks at Stanley for a second and puts the flower behind his ear. Kyle likes daisies, but they can’t compare.

He returns to the castle shortly before the sun rises. He doesn’t realize until he sees the flashes of blue and yellow in the sky. But he isn’t tired, not just yet. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, and his heart feels the same. Kyle turns on the light, returning to his canvas. He grabs the white paint, splatters some white paint onto his palette, dabbing yellow around it.

He finds the tiniest brush, dipping it in and dotting yellow spots all around, his brush dancing around them. The painting suddenly comes to life. He can’t take his eyes off of the sea of daisies. He looks at them, flicking his brush to paint the flower crowns. He looks, nothing can compare.

Stanley looks up at the sky. The nasty dark clouds have been following them ever since they left the stables, getting lost in the nearby woods. There is a lake in the middle, and Stanley leads the way. He knows the path by heart. Often, he’d resort to hiding from his responsibilities and formalities on the shore of this little lake.

He wanted to take Kyle there, him and no one else. They saddled the horses, escaping from the kingdom walls and into the wilderness. Where they can finally be a little more themselves. They don’t have to turn around every time they walk a little closer, in case anyone sees. They don’t have to sneak around with barely linked fingers, in case anyone is around. They don’t have to hide in the lost corners of the castle every time they want to get lost in the other’s eyes just for a second too long.

They don’t have to.

They can hold hands as they ride through the forest, Stanley’s horses trotting in between the trees. They can sit in the wet ground, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, looking at the peaceful lake. And forget everything that’s going on back in their kingdoms. Forget the conflicts, forget the tension, forget the increasing number of soldiers, and forget the never-ending nights in the boardroom. At least that’s what it’s been like for Stanley. 

But he is with Kyle now. He’s with his peace of mind and with his piece of heaven. He is with someone who makes his heart go crazy just by looking at him. And he makes his cheek flush every time he says his name. Because he still can’t believe that he is the one having the privilege of occupying Kyle’s heart and soul. 

He holds him and calls him his majesty. Kyle argues he’s not a king yet, and Stanley disagrees, telling him he’s the king of his heart. Kyle laughs, and to Stanley, it’s the sweetest sound. 

He sits against a tree and doesn’t care his jacket will get wet, or his riding boots will get dirty. He only cares about Kyle’s breath on his neck and his fingers playing with the hem of his jacket. He closes his eyes and caresses his hair. This is all he cares about. This is all there is.

But the clouds never stop following them. They saddle up their horses once again, heading back before the storm hits. Their horses stroll, both barely touching hands as they ride. Kyle strokes the horse’s mane. It’s rich black and so soft. He knows that’s Stanley’s work. His eyes leave the black horse he’s sitting on, the one with the white diamond on forehead and white knee socks, as Stanley likes to call them. Kyle always laughs.

Stanley’s straddling the beige horse. It indeed looks like royalty. Its coat is so shiny. Kyle knows that’s Stanley’s work too. He told him about how he cares for their horses. He doesn’t have to, but it’s something that brings him joy in the dull days of royal life. And he told him about how he goes to the stalls every day and how he tamed these two horses. And how he cares for them and trains them and how the whole royal court always knows where to find him.

And Kyle could see that he loves it. And that he’s excellent at it. He looks at him as he rides his horse, barely moving as he does. And Kyle can’t take his eyes off for a second, a new wave of adoration coming over him. Stanley looks at him, still holding his hand. He sees the buttercup flower in Kyle’s shirt pocket, the one he gave him when they sat by the lake and smiles even more. 

But then the clouds give out, letting rain was over the land. He feels the first drop, looking up. It’s almost like glass falling on his skin. He feels another one, another one, another one. It starts slow, almost as if the rain is giving them a second before it washes over the forests and kingdoms and lakes. 

But they can’t find shelter soon enough, Stanley desperately looking for one roof to hide under until the storm comes and goes. He sees a shed in the background, but not before the heaviest rain starts and washes over them. It doesn’t care they’re princes and highnesses. It makes no exceptions, soaking them almost completely.

Stanley pushes his legs down, his horse picking up speed. Kyle tries to follow suit, and Stanley leads them to a little wooden shelter in the woods. It’s barely big enough for both of them and the horses. Kyle ties his horse to one of the poles holding the shelter up, running up to Stanley. He huddles under the roof, hugging his jacket close to his body. The temperature dropped dramatically, the air around them suddenly chilly on their cheeks. 

Kyle comes to him, wiping the drops off of his face with a wet sleeve. It doesn’t help much, Kyle asks Stanley if he’s okay. He nods, telling Kyle to come closer. He sees that Kyle’s shivering, wrapping his hands around him. He’s wet too, but it brings Kyle some comfort. He lays on Stanley’s shoulder again, just like by the lake, and breathes in his scent. He knows he’ll still smell it on his shirt hours later. He likes that.

But the heaviness sets hard over him. He feels his mood drop as fast as the rain falls. He sees it drop from the sky and hears it banging on the roof. He hears a thunder rolling in the background. But Stanley’s hands are still holding him close, and he suddenly feels like he never wants Stanley to let him go. 

He looks up at him, giving him a soft smile. “Do… Do you really have to go?”

He sees Stanley sigh, and he sees the sadness in his eyes. He hates it, he hates that he’s feeling anything other than joy and love. And he hates he brought it up, but he wants to know. Does he have to go?

“I do. It’s… It’s my duty. For my country.” Stanley sees Kyle’s eyes drop, his smile disappearing a while ago. And it hurts him, it hurts his soul to see something other than a smile on his face. He’s not sure if those are tears or raindrops on his face. “I’ll be back, your majesty,” he whispers and kisses Kyle’s hair softly. He feels Kyle trace his fingers along the buttons of his shirt. 

Kyle can’t stop his cheeks from turning pink. His heart flutters, Stanley hasn’t kissed his lips yet, he hasn’t kissed his cheeks. But it makes the rain feel warm all of a sudden, the clouds disappear slowly. The sun doesn’t come out, but he doesn’t mind. His sun is already there, with his arms gently holding him. 

“Oh, your highness.”

Kyle paces around the room. His hands are sweaty, but his throat is dry. He dreads opening the letter that’s sitting on his desk, he dreads even looking at the wax seal stamped in the middle. He walks around it, circling like a moth around a fire. He reads it’s addressed to him and only him. 

But he also sees it’s sent from Stanley, from God knows where. He doesn’t dare to open it just yet, his mind first playing tricks on whatever could be written down in the letter. He won’t know until he reads it.

He’s worried. He’s scared. He’s anxious to see what Stanley’s telling him. With trembling hands, he takes the envelope, he doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath. The seal is torn, and Kyle holds the letter in his hands. Before he reads it, his mind still circles around where Stanley is now. And how he hasn’t seen him in so, so long. Every moment without him feels like a pin stuck in his heart. What he’d give to have him beside him, oh, what he’d give up.

Kyle unfolds the paper, and the words skip around. He has to take a deep breath to calm down and start reading.

  
_Your highness, prince Kyle,_

_our font will move forward tomorrow. I’m writing in case these are the last lines to be delivered to you, shall I be no more. I feel compelled to sit down and write everything that my heart has been yelling for weeks._

_What will happen is not in my hands, but rather God’s will. It may be a severe conflict, and it may not. I can’t assure neither you nor myself. Many have fallen for our kingdom, and many have fallen for our army. I shall be their strong leader, and I shall stand in the first line. I owe it to the ones who fell in cold blood._

_But I can’t bear the thought that when a sword is placed to my throat, our joys will be replaced with sorrows, and our laughs will be replaced by tears. Two hundred men are sleeping behind me. This is the last night for many of them, and I fear I might be one of those, death tapping on my shoulder. I wish to break free from the chains of the battlefield. _

_But I love you more than I fear death; thus, I am writing this letter, rather than resting, I dream of you, you have called upon me, and I have obeyed. _

_I get reminded of you every day. From your fragrance softly melted into my shirt, to the buttercup fields we pass every day. I am reminded of every moment with you, every second, and it is so dear. I am reminded of how I stood under your window, only wishing for you to open and look down. I am reminded of watching you paint in the gardens and the blue paint never washing out completely. I am reminded of how you held me, laying in a field while you read to me your favorite book. I am reminded of how we hid in my stables after a ball._

_Never forget how much you mean to me. If I take my last breath on the battlefield, it will be taken thinking of you. But when I think of you, I feel no fear._

_Before I met you, I was living a life full of joy. But after we danced behind the castle, to the faint sound of violins, I understood how life was supposed to be lived. Every time I close my eyes, I wish to see you. Every time I feel the cold breeze, I wish it was your touch._

_Either you love me or not, you are the moon of my every night and the sun of my every day. You are my stars, and you are my clouds. You are my everything._

_Yours, and only yours, your prince_

_Stanley_

  
Kyle leans back on the chair. He has a hard time reading the last few words, they are already wet and seeped into the paper. He quickly wipes away any more tears but can’t stop them from coming, he can’t. He tries to wipe them away, so any more words don’t get soaked and washed away. He can’t let that happen, treasuring every word like a diamond.

His eyes burn, new tears flooding in like a river after heavy rain. His heart beats fast, yet he still feels this ache inside his chest. It stings and burns, and he whimpers as he hugs the letter close, closer, closer to his heart. It’s a memory of Stanley, and it’s all he’s got currently left of him.

Kyle looks at the empty window. The window where he stands at night, unable to tear his eyes away from the city lights. The window where he stands, hoping each night he’ll see his prince come. Hoping each night he returns, hoping he’ll hear that heavenly clink against his window and he’ll look down, and Stanley will stand right there in the garden and he’ll run down from his room straight into his arms, not caring about who sees or hears. He still hopes.

Waiting by the window, waiting for his prince to come home. 

He opens the window once again tonight, holding the letter in his hands. The tears have stopped, but the pain has only increased. He reads over some of the words again, letting the cold air cool down his hot cheeks, clinging onto the wet paths on his face. He feels it, wiping it away with the sleeve of his shirt. The night is cold.

He looks up at the moon. He wishes, no, he knows that Stanley is looking at the same moon, wherever he is. Wherever the letter came from. He’s with him. 

Kyle runs his fingers over the pressed daisies and buttercups he keeps in his favorite book. It’s the one he read to Stanley. He smiles, “Come home,” he whispers, his eyes skipping over the words in between the flowers. Another wet dot appears. Next to it, another one. The words bleed into the paper. Come home.

The horse stops. Kyle pulls on the bridle. He stops far from the castle. He watches the rest of the knights continue their journey, all dressed in black. Behind him stops his closest guard. He asks Kyle if he’s okay, Kyle nodding, but his mind is somewhere else. He asks the guard to continue; he asks him to give him a second. He begs him silently.

Kyle is left alone once again. He has the urge to tear the black clothes off of his body. The wind blows hard, it’s freezing. His cheeks sting, but he ignores it. He can’t focus on anything else than the flag of the nearby kingdom, flying at half-mast. He can’t tear his eyes away from the black ribbons twirling in the strong winds.

His mind plays with many scenarios. Kyle doesn’t like any of them. The flag feels like a sword stuck in his heart. But it’s been stuck there ever since he got the news. His mind still isn’t fully wrapped around what they told him. 

He isn’t gone. 

He can’t be gone.

This isn’t real.

Is it?

Kyle hands the bouquet he’s carrying to the closest guard. The man’s confused. Kyle asks him to tell the king he’ll come by later. And to express his deepest condolences. He knows he can’t bear looking at the flag much longer. The guard assures him he’ll do just as told, only to see Kyle turn his horse around and gallop away.

Kyle doesn’t know the path by heart, he always had Stanley by his side to lead him. But he continues deeper into the woods, he passes the trees and sheds, the flowers and bushes. He doesn’t take it all in because his mind is elsewhere. He can’t focus on the surroundings, he can only focus on not falling apart.

He barely makes it to the clearing. Kyle jumps off his horse, walking slowly to the lake. There’s a spot with many buttercups, right where he sat with Stanley the first time. He sits there again. Kyle knows now’s the time to bask in the light of his misery and anguish. He can’t help it. Falling into the blank space of despair seems easier than trying to claw your way out. It seems impossible.

He sits on the wet ground, his fingers digging deep into the grass still covered in morning dew. He’s alone now. The grass used to make him feel alive. He isn’t sure if he can feel much now. There are no dams, no walls. He tilts his head back, looking at the tree crowns.

Kyle feels the tears run, they flow and flow, and he isn’t sure if he can ever stop them. He feels them drip, drip from his eyes, and fall into the grass. The grass used to make him feel alive. Now instead of butterflies, he feels a storm brewing inside of him. Instead of flowers blooming, he feels the rumble of thunder. Instead of joy, he feels pure agony. His breaths are heavy, he knows his heart is beating, but instead, it just aches. 

He pulls out the letter. He likes to keep it close, especially during times like these. He doesn’t wipe away his tears. These are the first tears he’s shed for Stanley. When they told him the news, he didn’t understand. He didn’t decipher the message. Just now, it all comes crashing down on him like an avalanche.

Kyle reads the letter again and again. It’s hard to keep the sobs and whimpers quiet, he’s glad he’s alone in the woods. He covers his mouth, but the noises keep coming. He’s still reading the letter, broken by every word he sees. He just now realizes he never told him that he loved him. He loves him, he does, his heart still screams for him. He never told him. He never had the chance.

He has never kissed him. They always said not here, not now. What if someone sees, what if someone hears. They kept saying not now until the universe put a dot at the end of their sentence. He remembers Stanley’s hands caressing his face and leaning in, he remembers, and he remembers looking away. He remembers saying not now because the moment wasn’t perfect even though he wanted, he wanted to kiss him so badly. But it was, every moment he spent with Stanley was perfect. It was beyond that.

How he wishes he could change that. He wishes he could hold his face and claim his lips, he doesn’t care who sees. What he’d give to see him again, just one more time, oh, what he’d give up. Just to hold his hands for a little while. To feel his heartbeat when he pulls him closer and wraps his hands around him. To just kiss him, once, that’s all he’s asking for. 

He doesn’t care. He’d kiss him in the crowning room, he’d tell everyone. He doesn’t care. He just wants Stanley back for one moment. One moment is all he needs, all he wants. To see him again, to tell him he loves him. Because now he’s gone and Kyle knows this is a selfish reason to want him back, but he’d give up anything to tell him what he feels. Just so Stanley will know. He wants him to know. 

Kyle looks up at the sky. The heavy dark clouds are hovering over him once again. He looks up and whispers, I love you. He whispers so quietly he can barely hear himself but hopes that wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, Stanley can hear him. 


	17. Do you remember the days? PT 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes flings last, sometimes they fall apart, and sometimes they meet after years because they still think of each other during rainy days.

“Hurry up, I told them we’d meet them at the coffee shop,” Kenny nervously paced around the room, from the closet to the mirror and back. “You’re wearing a beanie anyway!” Kenny threw his phone on Kyle’s bed and then threw himself on the covers. 

Kyle didn’t want to admit it, but maybe a part of why he kept looking in the mirror and fixing everything about himself, his hair, not messy enough, too messy, his jacket, fixing his belt, tucking his shirt in and out, maybe he was wasting so much time so he could delay meeting Kenny’s friends as much as he could. 

“Yeah, yeah, just a… Just a minute,” he mumbled, twisting the beanie right and left, placing each strand in the perfect location. His stomach clenched every time he thought about how he would have to go to the coffee shop and meet Kenny’s friends from college and… And knowing himself, he knew he’d just sit in the corner and look at the patterns the milky foam made. 

‘I just like to listen,’ he always excused his silence. True, he liked to listen. He wanted to talk too. But he never seemed to find the right time, the perfect time to jump into the conversation. It was okay when it was one or two new people. And maybe… They wouldn’t even want to listen to him. It felt like being thrown into a wild river by Kenny, with no way to keep yourself afloat. 

He cursed Kenny for making him go, promising them to bring him too because… Well, he promised him they’d spend the weekend together. He knew Kenny wanted to see them again after they all came back from internships and study programs and whatever for a short while, and he guessed Kenny felt too bad for leaving him alone. Or maybe he hoped, like so many times before, that Kyle would slither out of his shell and have a good time. 

No, that’s dumb. He can have a good time. Just… It just has to be people he knows. 

Kyle didn’t even notice when they arrived at the subway station. The worries clouded his mind so much, he only snapped back into reality when he had to fish for his ticket. And it hit him he’s just closer and closer to the dreaded date.

Kenny asked him if he’s okay a few times. And Kyle just nodded his head, not to be a bummer, but Kenny saw how he kept playing with his fingers. Their stop was coming, and Kyle felt a burning clench in his chest, forcing himself out of the wagon and up the stairs.

“Come on, they’re cool guys. It’ll be fun!” But Kyle didn’t believe a word of that. Sure, it’ll be fun for Kenny, but… God, he started to feel like a burden. He knew Kenny wouldn’t be taking him if he didn’t feel bad about leaving him alone at home. He knew Kyle would just stay on his phone the whole night, and that’s… That’s not a bad night for Kyle.

He knew he’d just have to last two hours with a smile and then spend the next days recharging. 

Kyle stirred his milkshake, looking out of the window. He managed to catch every detail in the street, acting as if he’s lost in his thoughts. Well, he was. But he acted like that, just to have an excuse when someone asks why he’s not joining the conversation. Because he just doesn’t know how. 

The thing is, the guys were pretty nice. They met up, greeted, introductions, all that. Kyle even started feeling better about this whole ordeal; maybe, maybe he could actually fit in and have fun. Made small talk, he exchanged a few words with them. But as soon as the conversation steered towards their college times, he knew he was redundant. Sure, he could butt in and talk about his college times, but… But he didn’t want to. Who’d care anyway? 

He couldn’t find a blind spot to jump in anyway. God, why did he think so much about it? Just speak. You don’t have to think about entering a conversation, do you? God, Kyle, just say something.

But he didn’t. He got ready a few times. Almost ready to make the jump and… And then he didn’t. He stirred the whipped cream on the top of his milkshake and watched it dissolve; he focused so much on the cream to take the attention away from his own dull inside. If he were alone, maybe he’d start crying. Just… He felt so hopeless and alone, it was almost absurd. He didn’t want to come here, really. He let Kenny talk him into it, but… He hated feeling like a burden, like a bystander in a group of people, and even though they sometimes asked him a thing or two, he couldn’t fit right in. 

The bell above the door rang, and Kyle quickly looked at his new distraction, but his heart soon dropped when the man approached their table. He gave him a big smile before he greeted the others, and Kyle just hoped he wasn’t looking at him with a stare too obvious. 

He shuffled his way to the window seat, and Kyle’s heart clenched when he sat right in front of him. Shit, now he’d have to look at him too, so he wouldn’t feel like he’s ignoring him. Why- Why is he overthinking this so much! He picked his eyes up from his disappearing whipped cream and looked up at the guy again. This time he couldn’t hide a smile, a smile instead of hello, and he received one in return.

“I’m Stan.” He reached his hand over the table to shake Kyle’s hand, and his smile got even bigger. Kyle quietly introduced himself too, shushed by the loud conversation going on beside them. 

Kyle didn’t know whether Stan was his saving grace or just one more voice in the cacophony of memories he heard from the side. And his eyes drifted to the street as soon as Stan joined the conversation, Kyle was left with the clinks of his straw against the glass. He was left with eyeing the city as it slowly fell into the night, and lights everywhere started popping up. He kinda wished he was there, whatever, lost in the streets instead of here, stuck in a corner and reminded he doesn’t…. Really belong.

“So… What do you study?” Kyle’s eyes shot up and only saw Stan stirring sugar into his coffee. He wasn’t sure if the question was directed at him, but…

“Oh, um… Bioinformatics.” God, that must’ve sounded so lame. He saw the guy’s… Oh shit, he forgot his name. He forgot his name already, and it’s been just like a few minutes. He saw the guy’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Wow… I don’t… I can’t even imagine what that is,” he laughed. 

“What about you?”

He saw his eyes roll with a sheepish smile. He hesitated for a second, Kyle wondered if he didn’t want to tell him. “Well,... It’s going to sound… Not that great compared to you but uh… Art history.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“That honestly sounds great! I… I don’t think I could ever look at paintings that long. And analyze them and...”

“It’s not that bad!” Stan tried to convince him. Kyle knew his tongue untied a little when he got the chance to speak about his studies, and the same seemed to be the case with Stan. He was quick to get into his latest assignments, and he pulled out his phone, showing Kyle the painting he’s supposed to write an essay about. 

Kyle appreciated him talking so much; he liked to listen. Well, he listened, but he didn’t deny himself the little pleasure of looking up from the phone while the other boy explained the details, taking a better look at his face.

He suddenly didn’t hear a word he spoke. He just saw the spark in his eye when he talked and scrolled through the photos (a little cautiously). He only studied him for a second before quickly listening again. “...and that basically indicates she was pregnant at the time.” He looked up with glowing eyes, and it seemed really sweet to Kyle that he’s so into it. He could almost feel the excitement radiating from him. 

“Y-Yeah, yeah, it is. What… Does this vase mean?”

“Oh, that’s just a vase. And-” 

“Oh, what’s this?” Kyle held his hand away to stop scrolling, swiping back a few pictures to a painting that caught his eye. It was almost impossible to miss the bright colors. 

“Well, um… That is, in fact, my free time project,” Stan laughed, a little embarrassed that Kyle stopped at that picture precisely. But he felt a bit better when he saw the awe in his eyes. 

“You’re kidding!”

“No-”

“That’s insane!” he laughed, zooming in on the picture and maybe a little unintentionally looking for more symbolism. Maybe he thought it’d let him get to know Stan better. 

“You two ready to go?” A voice interrupted them, both looking up like deer in headlights as if they’ve been caught doing something wrong. And maybe, the others thought creating their little art corner was rude. But in the end, they didn’t care. 

Kyle stayed a little behind the group, Kenny pulling him back with a cheeky smile. Kyle stumbled closer to him, grabbed by his arm. “You two really hit it off,” Kenny whispered, and Kyle didn’t know whether to blush or make a snarky comment. 

“Yeah… I mean, there wasn’t too much to talk about with the rest so… What’s his… Name, though?”

“Christ, you’re a dumbass. Stan.”

And then he was cut off by Stan turning around to see if he’s still around and Kyle smiled back at him, and they looked at each other for a few seconds. It was maybe the hundredth time they’ve done that since they met. 

When Kenny saw the exchange, he quickly let go of Kyle and went squish between the rest of his friends, allowing Stan stay back and resume his conversation with the newcomer. “So, um, I never asked about your hobbies.”

Your hobbies. Kyle blankly stared at Stan, suddenly forgetting everything about himself. What does he do in his free time? He only saw himself studying and playing video games for the most part. No hobbies even came to mind; it almost felt like English in third grade, talking about his hobbies. What does he do? Quick, quick, something interesting. 

“You really… Have to give me a second,” he giggled nervously. He had hobbies, he knew he did, but nothing came to mind. “I taught myself how to play one song on the ukulele recently and, and, and… I meditate for…” For anxiety? “...to ease my mind and- I used to be really good at programming at high school but- God, I swear I’m not as boring as I sound, my mind’s just-... Blank.”

And he kinda regretted his words until he heard Stan laugh and patted his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure there’s a lot to learn about you. Oh, look,” he looked up as the noise around them picked up, and the neon lights shone. And they shone very brightly, casting a warm orange glow onto Kyle’s face, and Stan couldn’t tear his eyes away for a second. The people started huddling around them. “I guess we’re going to the fair.”

Kyle didn’t even realize they were at the pier; just now did he feel the cold night air blowing from the sea. And it was so nice, even though it sneaked under his jacket and his shirt and he felt shivers on his arms. He stuffed his hands onto his pockets, fiddling with a ripped button he forgot in there. 

Stan held onto his arm, locked his arm with Kyle’s, not to lose him in the crowd. They barely saw their friends in the distance but were still following them. Kenny turned around with the biggest grin, yelling at them to hurry up because the Ferris wheel by the sea’s only got 6 places left, perfect just for them. And Stan wanted to grab his partner for the night and run after them, but people soon rushed to fill the gap between them, and they only saw Kenny being dragged away by the rest of the group, throwing them a sad look. 

But it was just them now. 

How convenient. 

Kyle felt Stan’s grip around his arm tighten as the music picked up, and they could barely hear each other. He saw Stan speaking at him but… But he couldn’t understand a word, and Stan didn’t like not talking to Kyle. He wiggled them away through the people and the stands, slipping by a food stand and skipping over the cables and tiny generators, and his head spun from the stale smell of fried dough. But they made it to the edge of the pier. Kyle quickly hopped to the fence because he liked to look over the vast sea. Especially at night. But now it was flashing with bright colors of the fair, switching from blue to yellow and green and red. 

“Wow, I can finally hear you.”

“Amazing, huh?”

“Yeah… So will you finally tell me about your hobbies?” Stan teased him and gave him a little nudge to the side. But annoying him was worth that small smile that appeared on his face. 

“Oh, shut it.”

“I’m just kidding, just kidding…” Stan laughed, stepping up on the bottom ledge of the fence, looking over the coast. “You wanna go check the Ferris wheel when it clears out?”

“Not really, I’m… Not too keen on heights. But I’m pretty sure one of the guys will go with you if you want to go.”

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t leave you alone tonight, would I?” 

“You better not.” Kyle shivered when the wind hit him even harder than before and pinched his cheeks. He was glad he wore a beanie. Maybe they should go for a little walk. So he grabbed Stan’s jacket and pulled him off the fence. He wanted to say something, but his stomach interrupted him. “Shit, I guess I should’ve eaten something before we went out,” he laughed, hoping to laugh away the awkward silence. 

But Stan was just concerned. “You should’ve said you were hungry! There’s this stand- Okay um, stay h-”

“No, no! It’s oka-”

“Stay here I’ll be right back!”

“I’ll go!... With you,” Kyle didn’t get the chance to yell after Stan, who was already pushing his way through all the people. But he got lost too fast for Kyle to follow. He felt kinda guilty, actually, for making Stan go fetch him food. And it was so awkward, standing around alone. 

“Okay, pick one,” Kyle heard from the side after a long while. He was starting to wonder if Stan ditched him, right there. But then he got so lost, staring over the sea and forgot all about Stan. Well, at least for a second. Because he then saw lights glimmer in the sea and bright neon lights shine from behind him, and he got reminded how magical Stan looked in those lights. And maybe there was an ocean in his e- No, oh no. 

And Kyle was in it again. This time, it took him even shorter to get attached to the first person who paid some attention to him. The guy took him out to eat, and here he is, thinking about the midnight stars in his eyes. Dumb, so dumb. 

And maybe… Maybe he should shut up about this, maybe he should let himself be stupidly invested in one person, even just for one night. Maybe this is why Kenny has been dragging him out of the house so much. Just stop overthinking for once and… Oh.

What if he’s not single? Does he… Does he have a girlfriend? He should text Kenny. No, he shouldn’t. He doesn’t need to know; they’re just hanging out tonight. No… No reason to think about holding his stupid hand.

“I’m sorry if it took long, there was an insanely long queue. But… Yeah, I don’t have your number, and I forgot to ask what flavor you wanted, so I got us caramel and strawberry. Which do you want?” He stuck out two paper bowls, and Kyle was left looking at the sweet concoction. 

“What exactly is this?” Kyle poked around with the wooden stick that came with it, pushing around caramel and bananas. 

“You’ve never had this?” Stan gasped. “They’re like this fair’s specialty! It’s um…. They’re like bite-sized pancakes, but they’re fluffy to high heaven. And you’ve got some walnuts in there, melted caramel and a banana.” Oh, that was a lot. “And I have the strawberry ones! You’re going to love it, trust me.”

He did. It was almost unbearably sweet, but the warm caramel tasted like absolute heaven. But the strawberry ones looked… They looked so good too. He wondered if… If maybe… 

“Can I?” he asked quietly, pointing his wooden stick towards Stan’s bowl. And at first, he said sure, but then retracted his bowl. 

“If you give me your number.”

“Pancake for a number?”

“Mhm.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Kyle wasted no time looking for the juiciest one, stealing one strawberry pancake dipped in strawberry jam and a raspberry on top. He plopped it into his bowl and took Stan’s phone. He typed in the number without thinking and then… He looked at the numbers and wondered. Is it 4-5? Or 4-8? Is 4-8 from Kenny’s numbers? How… How could he forget his own number? But 4-5 just sounded right. He went with 4-5, hoping to never meet Stan ever again if it’s the wrong number. 

They continued their walk around the pier, getting a little lost in shallow topics to fill the air. Everything you’d ask a person you met just a few hours ago. The night felt like it’d been so long, though, and they both liked it. They kinda wished it was still only dusk, so they could wander the pier together even longer. 

“So… You’ve got someone right now?” Kyle sneaked into the conversation, poking around the last walnut. 

“No, not really.”

“Well, that’s a surprise.”

“Oh?” Stan laughed and gave Kyle a cheeky look. “Why?”

And Kyle knew he walked himself right into a trap. “You-... Well, you just look like someone who’d… God, I don’t know. I just thought you had a girlfriend. Is… Is that bad to say?” 

And Stan couldn’t help but smile at how sweet Kyle’s concern was. “No… You just think I’m hot, and that is perfectly reasonable,” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 

“I- No, no, I just-” Kyle stared at him with an open mouth. It’s not that it wasn’t right, but he didn’t want him to put words into his mouth like that. 

“Oh, you’re so flustered!” Stan poked Kyle’s cheek and continued skipping down the pier. He almost looked like he was dancing, and Kyle liked this energy. “Oh, and it’s boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Well, you said girlfriend earlier, so…”

“Oh, right…”

“I suppose you’re also swarmed by crowds of admirers.”

“You know what…” Kyle said in a mocking tone and caught up with Stan and his dancing step. “But yeah, I’m not seeing anyone right now. I barely have time to sleep with how much schoolwork I’ve got, let alone have a functioning relationship.”

“Oh, yeah.” And then he stopped for a while and listened. As soon as he recognized the song, he wasted no time singing along. He wasted Kyle to sing with him, having their little private party behind the fair. He reached out his hands, and Kyle hesitantly took them out of his pockets and let Stan pull him into a dance. 

“Your hands are so cold!” Stan gasped, grabbing Kyle’s hands and putting them into his own pockets. Kyle had to admit, it was a little cozier than his denim jacket. Especially with Stan’s hands trying to warm up his own. 

“It’s ok-”

“No! Um,... I hate to say it, but I think you should go home. And I say this very disappointed.”

Kyle knew he should. It was past midnight already and… Well, he was cold as hell. But he chose to ignore the scorching cold on his hands for Stan. “Oh, I should call Kenny.” And then he thought for a second. “Ferris rides don’t take four hours.”

“Oh my God, they ditched us!”

“They did!”

“I’m glad. Okay, let’s go. How are you going home?” And this is where the awkward talk began. Kyle didn’t know. 

“Well… The- The subway.”

“Oh, me too! Which line?” They were already on the way to the subway entrance, and Kyle tried hard to remember which train they came with. And which way. 

“I-... Red line? I think,” he squinted at the map hanging above the station, but he couldn’t make out where they were. “Um, we moved here like two years ago. I’m… Incredibly lost in these trains.” It felt good to confess, but he still didn’t know how to go home. 

“Okay. Where are you going?” And he only said the address of his house. “That’s… That’s a street, not a station.”

“Yeah, I take the bus most of the time. I’m not sure which is the closest.”

“This is bad. Okay, um, tell you what. I’m taking you home.”

“What? No, no, you do-”

“That’s not a question, Kyle. I’ve lived here my whole life. Like an old fashioned date. Come on, I’d rather walk you there myself than you getting lost,” he laughed and dragged Kyle into the train.

“You sure know your way around.” They passed the familiar houses and parks. Kyle liked how tranquil the streets were at night. He was still incredibly cold, but the silence and peace made up for that. “You don’t have to walk me home. I think I know the way. I think…”

“Yeah, I do! I said it’s like an old fashioned date! I actually don’t live too far—just a few stations. You know, you should come over sometime. I could… Show you my Pokémon collection,” Stan winked at Kyle, enjoying the flustered look on his face a little too much. 

“Sure, sure. Sounds great!” But Kyle wasn’t sure. Does Stan actually have a cool collection? If so, he’d really like to see. God, he isn’t 13 anymore, but… But if it’s a really sick collection, it’d be really cool. But maybe he means a hookup? Oh, he’s getting stressed again. He didn’t want to go in, not knowing if he’s about to play a card game or get laid. Well… Would Stan even sleep with him? Maybe, oh, if he gave him the right number. Or maybe it was a joke? But he’d still like to see his collection if he has one. 

“Oh, here we are,” Kyle pointed at the near house. But Stan didn’t seem to be parting ways. Kyle was kinda glad. 

“So.”

“So.” They both looked around as they stood in silence in front of the gate to the house. “I think this is the end of our night.” 

Kyle felt a dip in his stomach when Stan said that. His stomach turned as if he was expecting something. Will something happen? Oh, will they hug? Maybe… No, they won’t kiss. But maybe… God, what is he expecting? Maybe if he stares at his lips long enough… He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to say something witty, maybe something flirty, something that’ll be a proper end to a night so nice. He didn’t know what to say. “Yeah…”

“I guess I’ll see y-” Okay, it’s not or never. Should he? He shouldn’t. Or… Oh, he should do something. Not just stand there. He felt like his brain told his body to move, but it just didn’t. Come on!

He switched to autopilot for a second and grabbed Kyle’s elbow as he was turning around. He turned around, and Stan gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. Just… The softest. He didn’t say anything for a second, just grinned like an idiot. Both of them did. Kyle really wanted to pat himself on the back for gathering enough courage. “It’s really an old fashioned date, huh? I’ll-... See you around, then,” Stan walked backward, just to get that one last look at Kyle and give him a little wave. And he waved back. He’ll see him around.


	18. Do You Remember the Days PT 2 [M]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've decided to make this a story on its own since this is just part 2 of 4, if you like the story and want to know what follows, i'll be updating it as a new story :-)
> 
> **also contains sexual content**

“Maybe you should wear something warmer next time,” Stan laughed, taking off his flannel and wrapping it around Kyle. He didn’t know whether it was a tactic to get his shirt or if he was actually cold. Well, he could see Kyle was cold. But it was worth it seeing the flash of red on his cheeks.

Kyle wanted to blame it on Stan. He spent so much time in front of the mirror, checking every single detail of… Of his jeans, his belt, his shoes, his hair, his everything. That he forgot the jacket, but his bus was already leaving, and he’d rather be cold than late. They weren’t in that phase of the relationship yet. Maybe he enjoyed the ride more than the actual date, or so he thought he would. The anticipation mixed in with the anxiety, it kept him fiddling with his fingers the whole ride. He liked the feeling. 

Maybe he even let his thoughts wander a little bit. And it felt silly, but he wanted to let himself daydream about what could happen. He knew they’d just talk. And hopefully… He really hoped they’d have a great time. They did last time but… That was kinda organic. This time they’re there alone and… They planned on being there alone together. Maybe that raised even bigger expectations. They planned this so they should have the best time. 

He knew it wouldn’t happen. But the thought of just… Maybe kissing him. He liked that. He smiled, it was… Kinda dumb. Why did his mind go there immediately? Well, just look at Stan. He couldn’t help it. Ever since the fair, his mind couldn’t get rid of Stan. And maybe even in a more lustful way, and he’d always shush those thoughts, but he still enjoyed them. He tried to tell himself he didn’t. 

But he did, and his mind wandered there while he rode the bus. Maybe it was the long ride or maybe the song that played, but he could just feel, taste, see… No, no, he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He barely had the guts to kiss his cheek. In his mind, he was suave, and everything went smoothly, but he knew the moment it’d come to anything remotely… Romantic, his mind would give up on him. Just go as blank as when he’s asked about his hobbies. 

But Stan offering his shirt was a great start. Kyle felt Stan’s perfume all around now; he almost had to look for a bench to sit on and get his thoughts together. But he didn’t want to miss a word Stan was saying, listening to the story he was telling. From time to time, he got lost in his words. He’d just keep looking at his lips or at the river nearby, and his thoughts would wander. And then he’d snap right back and listen to Stan’s story about an art installation. Because he talked so passionately about it, it was just so… He could listen to him forever. He could stare at him forever. 

And he didn’t know if it was the drink or just Stan himself. But he just couldn’t forget his lips and their little goodbye a few days back and how his hands slowly grazed his shoulders right now and… And all that, he felt like he was going out of his mind. He really did. 

The glass bottle almost slipped out of his hands. Kyle barely caught it before it fell on the sidewalk and spilled everywhere. That would’ve been so awkward, with all the people around and Stan… Oh, oh God, he’s holding his hand. Kyle didn’t even notice, but just now did he feel Stan’s fingers loosely intertwined with his. He felt his stomach shrink so much it burned. And it took a few seconds to process even though… Even though it was something so simple and innocent. They’re holding hands. 

  
“You know, I really wanted to see the Pokemon collection,” unintentionally left Kyle’s mouth when they passed a comic shop and he didn’t expect Stan to pick up on it so quickly. Before he knew it, they were on the way to his place. Everyone was gone, so… So he told him they had the place to themselves with a cheeky wink, and Kyle suddenly wasn’t sure. 

Was he flirting? Did… Did he unintentionally invite himself in? Did he invite himself to a hookup? Or… Or did he really have a collection? He wasn’t sure, and it was making him nervous. Like… He’d hook up with him in a second, but he didn’t want to assume. He didn’t want to seem pushy or… Or the fact that Stan didn’t mention anything about his place. He felt like he was an invader or something. Maybe he didn’t want to push Kyle to anything? Well, Kyle doesn’t want to push Stan to anything too. 

He just hoped Stan didn’t feel pressured. Like… He’s excited, but the nervousness of not knowing what’s going to happen is ruining it. And-

“You okay?” Oh, they’re at the front door. He gave him a little assuring smile and noticed he still hasn’t let go of his hand. Nor has Kyle. And they stood there, at the porch, just looking at each other and smiling and… And Kyle thought he’d maybe lean in for a kiss, and the butterflies in his stomach all said yes, but Stan pushed the door open, and that was the end of that. No more hand-holding. 

Kyle has never been so thankful he had pockets. Now that his hands were on their own, he suddenly forgot what to do with them. Well, he knew he wanted them to be touching Stan. Okay, maybe he should tone it down a little. But he didn’t want to, when Stan’s perfume reminded itself to Kyle when he took off his flannel shirt and… He sighed and followed Stan. This probably won’t lead anywhere. He kinda regretted mentioning the stupid collection to Stan.

“Care for a drink?” Kyle wasn’t sure, but the drink they had in the city was already leaving his system. He didn’t think being drunk would help but… Some liquid courage might. Or at least hold something in his hand, so he doesn’t stand around like a post. He followed Stan into the kitchen because… Well, where else was he supposed to go? He cautiously looked around the rooms to- “Hey, could you take out glasses for us?” 

Kyle looked at Stan, who was roaming through a cabinet to pick out their poison. The kitchen was narrow, so narrow, the two of them almost couldn’t fit between the counters. He opened the upper cabinet and almost couldn’t reach the glasses at the top. His finger hooked the edge, and he stood on his toes and prayed he wouldn’t break anything. He pulled the glass closer and caught it, just the other one left. 

“I’ll just… Squeeze by,” Stan whispered in his ear. Kyle almost dropped the glasses when he felt Stan brush against him and his hand slide over his lower back, and it was just like someone pushing against you on a full bus, but damn, he just… He hoped Stan wouldn’t see the goosebumps on his hands. Stan just needed some ice. He just needed ice, and Kyle thought he’d take some and put it down his shirt to calm down his heart. 

  
Kyle gripped the wet glass. He guessed there was gin in the drink because it was so bitte,r but the bubbles made it bearable. He knew he should’ve requested something sweeter but… Whatever now. Stan took the initiative to put on some music because it just… It just made everything less awkward. And not that it was awkward because the whole night was going great. Better than he expected, really. 

They were supposed to meet at the pier, but Stan decided to wait by Kyle’s stop, and Kyle felt his heart go insane when he saw Stan waiting there. He knew the feeling a little too well, his stomach would feel like it’s imploding, and his heart is just going insane, and his fingers tingled a little bit.

He thought he’d have a little time to prepare himself mentally, the walk to the pier, but Stan cut it short, and Kyle was both anxious and happy to see him. He received a little kiss on the cheek before they could even say hi, and it was maybe the best greeting. Because Stan was so soft. And his lips were so soft, and his hair that tickled Kyle’s face was soft. Kyle wanted to fall right into his arms because his daydreams were coming true, maybe and slowly. 

But he didn’t, he just smiled, and they continued on their walk to the town. They didn’t have a plan, but Kyle was glad Stan had a spot in mind because… Because he couldn’t name one coffee shop if his life depended on it. And he was talking again, and Kyle loved it; he loved to listen to him. 

They found the perfect bench that overlooked the city and sat there like it was their throne. Kyle kept eyeing the shops behind them and the people walking along the promenade, and it calmed him down a little. The slight chaos around him calmed him down. Stan opened his bottle for him, and Kyle poked the inside of his cheek with a skewer. He got so lost in his thoughts, his gaze running from the city lights to Stan, and back every few seconds, he forgot he was biting an already empty skewer. 

Stan said he would’ve taken him to a restaurant but… Well, he’s a college student, for one, and also the food from the place they went to is so great. It really was. And they could look over the city, and Kyle loved the feeling of evening falling on him, the soft blue sky painting everything a different color and it turning into purple, the orange street light shining through and the air getting colder and colder. He loved it, though he forgot his jacket. 

It didn’t matter too much. He was focused too much on Stan’s talking to notice he was cold. And Stan tried to turn the conversation to him, and it felt strange to talk about himself but… Stan seemed to be interested, like he ate up everything Kyle said, and every now and then, they’d share a little look and a smile like before. 

Stan was leaning on his arm, leaning closer to Kyle just to hear him better and… And maybe just to be closer to him. The bottles and paper bowls were the only things between them, except for the almost unbearable tension. Or maybe Kyle was the only one who felt that. Stan’s face was so close, he wondered if he should do something. He felt the drink in his head a little bit, but… Not too much. He just felt his cheeks get red. But he didn’t do anything. They just talked.

And while he talked about his road trip fantasies, he felt Stan’s pinkie finger wrap around his own, and he pretended he didn’t notice, but maybe Stan noticed when he lost his train of thought. And it didn’t matter where he picked up after that because talking with Stan was just so easy. Anything and everything went. Stan could talk about medieval art, and Kyle would listen to him like it’s the most interesting thing he’s heard. 

But it got a little too cold, and Kyle suggested going for a walk. And that’s when… Well, Stan noticed just how cold Kyle was. He’s always cold. 

  
The music quietly hummed in the background. It felt like a nice soundtrack for the whole evening. They just kept talking, and Kyle curled up on one side of the couch and Stan on the other and all hopes of this evening going somewhere somewhat physical left Kyle’s mind. He didn’t mind, though, it was great as it was. It was just… A shame, because Stan looked great that evening and the shirt looked so good on him, and maybe it’d look so good on the floor, he didn’t know, but it was just great to look at him. Stan suddenly excused himself and disappeared in one of the rooms for a second. 

And Kyle was left in a dim room, alone. He noticed the gaming system under the TV and the stacks of games. Wow, they should… Maybe they should play together, no? That’d be a fun evening. He wanted to suggest it, but Stan quickly came back, holding a big plastic file in his hands. He put it on Kyle’s thighs, and it was really heavy, and Kyle looked up with a confused look. Stan sat down next to him, only to see him open it up and hear the cutest laugh ever. Kyle flipped through the pages and pages of neatly arranged cards, all separated by types, and HP and Kyle had to say, this is a pretty impressive collection. “Wow, I… I didn’t actually think you had a collection like this.” 

“Oh, what did you think I was referring to then?” 

“T-... You know, it’s really impressive, actually. Oh, what’s this?” Kyle squinted at a card. Stan shuffled even closer, their legs now touching. He put one arm behind Kyle, and the other one maybe on the folder, but it ended up on Kyle’s thigh and his chin on Kyle’s shoulder to see better and… And maybe he knew what he was doing because Kyle thought he’d go insane with the way he pressed himself against Kyle. He should’ve just… Jerked off in the shower before the date because it’s insane how frustrated he gets him. 

“W-Who… What’s this?” Kyle tried to steer the moment away from the fact he was slowly losing his mind every time Stan as much as looked at him. 

“That’s… Zapdos.” And Kyle was glad he didn’t ask why he didn’t just read the name off the card.

“Yeah, yeah, but… Why is he shiny?”

“It’s a rare card!”

“Oh shit, you could make a bank of this, huh?” Kyle flipped through the pages, even more impressed, and totally forgot about the subtext in which Stan invited him over. He liked the shiny cards. 

“Sure. I’m pretty sure I could drop out and live off of my Pokémon cards.”

“We should… Play sometime,” Kyle suggested even though he never played a single game. The cards looked… A little too complicated. Well, they didn’t, but all the little numbers on the sides and corners made it look hard. 

He heard Stan chuckle, and it did something to him. Because his voice was kinda low and husky and just so close to his ear. He was sure he knew what he was doing. “I’m pretty sure I’d destroy you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would,” Kyle turned to him, and they just looked at each other for a second. But there was no sweet, little smile this time. There was something… Something magnetic. It’s like time froze, and Kyle could neither, lean in closer nor pull away. He could just look at Stan’s face and unwillingly gaze over his lips and look at Stan do the same and… And he didn’t miss how he licked his lips but turned away before anything could happen. 

He reached for his glass with a surprised look, and Kyle wondered if he just caught Stan getting frustrated or what, but it didn’t matter. He sat a little further, and Kyle hated it but reached for his own glass. The gin still didn’t taste great. Stan grabbed the file and disappeared, and Kyle didn’t know whether… He should follow him into the bedroom or just wait or… 

Before he knew it, he was on his way to the bedroom but was soon stopped by Stan leaning on the doorframe, effectively blocking the way. He looked at him with that cheeky smile, that smile that drove Kyle crazy. “So eager to get into my bed?”

“Oh, no, no. Is the bedroom off-limits?”

“I never said that, but-” he took a step closer and intertwined his fingers with Kyle’s. He spun them around, and Kyle’s back was now facing the room. “-I mean, we’ve got the whole house to ourselves.” And Kyle thought his knees would buckle just from the look Stan was giving him, but he managed to hold it together. “What do you say, hm?” And he slowly moved them away from the room and slowly swayed to the rhythm of the song.

“What do I say?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s a really good song.”

“Oh wow, thanks,” Kyle loved to see Stan laugh. And the song was really good too. But… If it meant he’d just hear more of Stan’s voice, he’d rather be in complete silence.

“Really. You’ve got good taste.” Their fingers were still intertwined, and their voices got quieter and quieter the closer they got. 

“Oh, I’m hard already.” The whole conversation stood somewhere between teasing and flirty, and Kyle loved he could both joke and look at Stan and wish they’d be in bed already. 

“You should be. I rarely say that.”

“Well-” Stan took a step forward, and Kyle just now realized he was pushed against a wall, with his hands being held up by his head. He felt Stan’s breath on his neck, and it was hot, and he kinda regretted not seeing his face at that moment. His eyes ran around the barely lit house, and his mind finally got itself together and- Oh, shit. Holy shit, it’s happening. He was suddenly insanely aware of every part of his body and- He felt Stan’s hold on his hands tighter and oh, oh- He’s kissing his neck. Kyle didn’t even have the chance to stop the surprise sigh leaving his throat. “I hope you say this more often.” 

“Depends,” Kyle breathed out, and Stan stopped the soft kisses he planted on Kyle’s neck, and as much as he wanted to protest, seeing him look up at him with so much lust in his eyes was so worth it. He almost couldn’t believe he was saying this but… Shit, whatever. If not now, when. Kyle wanted him. Stan wanted him too, and Kyle saw it, and he loved it, he basked in the attention. Stan leaned in, almost kissing him, almost, leaving just enough space to make Kyle wait for it and then give him nothing. Make him long for it. Wait, beg. Kyle felt Stan press his body against him, and he felt how his chest rose up and down and how fast his heart was beating. He felt that Stan was just as hot. 

“On?”

“On how good you are,” he muffled a little laugh because it sounded like a line from a bad porno, but if that’s what it took for Stan to finally give in and kiss him, he’d repeat cheesy porn lines forever. And his mind once again strayed away and thought, oh shit, we’re kissing. Stan’s lips were so soft, and Kyle’s heart was almost beating out of his chest. They’re finally kissing. And his tongue is sliding across his lip and-... And oh God, this is so hot and almost kinda unbelievable. Kyle kissed him back, and just now did he notice he tasted faintly of gin, but it suddenly tasted sweet, the sweetest. 

He didn’t miss the little sigh from Stan, and he finally let go of his hands to explore his body; finally, his arms ran up and down his chest, and he couldn’t get enough of Kyle. It almost felt like electricity running through his body. He took the chance to run his hands through Stan’s hair and pull him closer, as close as he could get. 

Stan’s fingers dropped to his belt and pulled up Kyle’s shirt, just a little bit, just to expose some skin, and his fingers drew circles over his hips, and Stan could feel Kyle smile into the kiss. His hands slipped under Kyle’s shirt, and he felt his skin, and it was hot, scorching hot, and he thought he’d melt after every little touch. And Kyle took the opportunity to press himself into Stan, rolling his hips, and Stan let out a throaty groan. He didn’t think it was possible to get even more turned on, but feeling Stan moan into his mouth and scratch his chest slightly just-... The jeans felt too restricting, and he wanted to get rid of all the clothes at that moment. 

“Wha-” he whispered, but Stan never planned on stopping the making out process. “What about your roommates?”

“I don’t-” He didn’t even hear the last part because Stan dived right back into a hungry kiss, pulling Kyle closer with his hands around his neck and shoulders. And as much as he loved it- 

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t care,” Stan growled, and he tucked on Kyle’s belt and fiddled with unbuckling it for a while. The anticipation was almost better than the actual thing. He finally flipped the buckle away from the rest and hooked his finger behind his jeans’ button. “Can I?” 

Kyle’s eyes traveled to the front door by his left hand and with a direct view of them. And he just thought about his roommates barging in and- And he’d be an idiot to say no to a handjob from Stan. “Please,” he breathed out. Stan’s hands pulled on the button. Twisting it left and right, but it wouldn’t open. Not the second time either. “Shit-” Kyle heard him whisper when he broke off the kiss to look at the button.

“Yeah, it- God, it’s hard to unbutton.” Kyle cursed himself for just fighting with the button for months instead of making the hole bigger. Stan was still desperately trying to get it open, and Kyle pushed his hands away and tried to do it himself. He moved his hips to help, he pushed and pulled, and Stan just leaned on the wall and waited for him to undress. It was seconds, maybe a minute, but felt like hours. He wanted him now. And then it finally popped. Stan’s hand slipped through the layers of fabric, and a couple of curses left his mouth because- God, he didn’t care if anyone came through that door. He was still covered by his boxers, whatever. 

Kyle stared up on the ceiling, not even fighting the noises that were coming out. This was insanely hotter than anything he fantasized about on the bus. He heard Stan whisper something to him, but it was such a hazy dream in his head, he didn’t hear it. He moaned Stan’s name, and he could feel Stan’s smile in his neck, in between the kisses and bites. The whole time, almost automatically, he played with his hair and- And he didn’t want this to be one-sided pleasure. When Stan looked up at him with those lustful eyes and his lips were slightly parted, and his cheeks were a little red- Kyle was ready to drop to his knees right at that moment and push him against a wall and take him there.

He stroked him through his jeans, and he heard Stan groan his name; it was the best encouragement. He almost wanted to chuckle, the mental image of them popping in his head. Him practically relying on the wall for support and Stan kissing his jaw, now both of them just horny messes. Just… A mess. 

He felt Stan grab his hand, but Kyle decided it was his time to take the lead. They stumbled into the bedroom and barely remembered to close the door, just to be sure. It was hard, so hard to keep their hands to themselves, God, it was only a few feet away, and they almost went crazy. Kyle pushed Stan down on his bed, and he kneeled in between his legs, rubbing his thighs up and down, just to stretch the moment. Stan locked his legs around Kyle’s waist and played with the hem of his shirt. He looked so annoyed with the fact it was still on.

Kyle stopped for a second and took in the sight of Stan as he laid there, just for him, waiting, wanting, with a grin on his face. And it turned into a sweet smile but- “What’s wrong?”

He laughed a little and fixed Kyle’s shirt. “Isn’t this like one of the finishing moves from that fighter game?”

And Kyle kneeled there, absolutely speechless. It- It was, but he’d never in a million years think about something like that in a moment like this. “Jesus Christ, you’re an idiot,” he took a pillow from the bed and lightly hit Stan with a playful smile. How could he think about something like that? He’s supposed to focus on how insanely hard he made him and how he’s practically in Kyle’s lap and how there’s nothing hotter in the entire world.

“Is it not?!”

“It is! But then… I’d,” he licked his lips and slipped his hand under Stan’s shirt and rested it on his stomach, slowly running it up. It felt like ice on a scorching hot day. “I’d have to mess you up really bad, from here up to-” and his hand crawled up Stan’s chest, feeling every inch of skin under his shirt. “-here,” he stopped at his neck and took a good look at Stan, with his shirt rolled up to his shoulders. He took his hand out and ran his fingers along his jaw to his lips. When he felt Stan suck on his finger and his tongue draw small circles, he almost lost it right there. “And then do-” he had to regain himself. “-do unspeakable things to you.” He grabbed Stan by the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him closer. “And then I’d have to finish you,” grinding into him, and he got just the reaction he wanted from Stan, a husky ‘ah’ and his eyes rolled back. He was sure he could take him to heaven and back. 

He couldn’t tell if it was the horniness or amazement, but Stan was speechless. “I-... Wow, I’m telling the guys about this.”

“Shut up- You’re ruining it!” he laughed and drummed his fingers on Stan’s chest.

“I- No! This one’s for the books, this is great!” he laughed and had to cover his face with a pillow to not ruin the mood any further. “No, I’m sorry. Um… Kyle wins,” he mumbled in the announcer's voice.

“See? That’s more like it,” Kyle laughed and moved his attention to Stan’s belt.

“That’s great, but I’m… Impatient. When will we get to the flawless victory, dude?” Kyle didn’t need too much more convincing. He wouldn’t call it flawless, but… Still too good to be true. 

  
The sun shining into the room was too bright now for Kyle to ignore. He lazily opened his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar room. Just now did he see the unfinished painting in the corner, and a bunch more on the walls. They were incredible, he thought. He kept staring at them until the boy next to him moved, and he looked at him, and oh shit- Oh, right. That’s why he’s shirtless. 

He sat up and thought about last night and- Oh no, he can’t think about it too much. God, he doesn’t want to go rub one out into someone else’s shower. But still, he looked down on his chest and saw marks from last night, and it was just… He doesn’t think he ever had such good chemistry like he had with Stan. Even with all the bumps in the way, Kyle knew Stan was dreamy but after last night-

Shit. Did he really say that stuff with the fighter game? He hoped Stan wouldn’t think he was weird or anything, like- He doesn’t want to roleplay as an ice ninja or anything, it’s just that Stan mentioned it. He went with the flow, and God damn it; his horny brain is so incredibly stupid sometimes. He wouldn’t say it now but at that moment… Stan laughed, so he maybe seemed to enjoy it? Why would he say that, though? Fuck. 

“Morning, you beast,” he heard from the side and felt a little kiss on his shoulder. 

“Morning. How did you sleep?” 

“Really great. Um… Yesterday was… Holy shit, it was great. I had so much fun. We should do it again… Sometimes.”

Kyle looked at him, still lying in bed. Do it again sometime. If that meant Stan kissing him like he did yesterday and saying the things he did and-... And sitting on the bench and watching the city and just talking- No. No, shut it, this is about his hot moans, not about his dreamy eyes or whatever. No… Nothing more than… Attraction and some chemistry, right? “I’d… Love to. Sure. But now, I’d also love a shower.” He searched around the bed and only found Stan’s shirt from last night and put it on. After some searching, he found his boxers too. 

Stan told him where the bathroom is and didn’t forget to warn him that the roommates are already back. Kyle freaked out a little, it’d sure be suspicious why he’s running around in Stan’s shirt on a weekend morning but… Honestly, they probably all knew. He sat on the bed with a towel in his hands for a while.

He very well recognized the butterflies he felt in his stomach when Stan talked about yesterday with a pleased smile and played with his fingers. He knew it so well. But… It’s just an attraction and some chemistry, right? Right?


End file.
